


Vertigo

by Yoshiyuki Ly (Yoshiyuki_Ly)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 133,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshiyuki_Ly/pseuds/Yoshiyuki%20Ly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7th Year AU: A flower's appeal is in its contradictions - so delicate in form yet strong in fragrance, so small in size yet big in beauty, so short in life yet long on effect. Hermione learns, loves; she thrives on this. Fleur entertains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. assumptions, assumptions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP.

_Vertigo_

n.; a dizzying sensation of tilting within stable surroundings or of being in tilting or spinning surroundings. The sensation of dizziness; an instance of such a sensation; a confused, disoriented state of mind.

Or, quite simply – _the feeling that you are about to fall…_

_**i.** _ _assumptions, assumptions_

_Darkness…bone-chilling rain…and a castle… A castle which embodied the quintessence of aged grandeur; but a mere dark silhouette against the steel-coloured clouds, only lighting when Nature allowed – a bolt of lightning… The darkness howled with the boom of thunder soon after, but it paled in comparison to the might of one that stood within the castle's barriers._

_Rivulets of Misunderstandings and Ignorance beat a powerful cadence upon the walls of stone, the frozen glass, and it all played a stark affair for all to see atop the Enchanted ceiling of the Hall housing so many minds – old and young alike. The flickering candle lights floating overhead hovered over the faces of minds innocent, tainted, marred and bare – a powerful contrast._

_Even with trees threatening to fall outside, with life drowning from the torrents of Nature and a biting wind pounding the fortified walls silly, one woman stood strong against it all underneath the Enchantment of the beautiful sight just outside. Long robes, dark enough to rival the colour of the desolate storm outside billowed at her heeled feet. The woman stood tallest among her peers as she led them at the fore down the centre of the aisle, right behind the Deputy Headmistress with her poised, authoritative stride._

_But this student - elegant, assured, powerful, and cynical she walked – her stride embellished her confidence and a very wild twinge of a natural sex appeal; a twinge because of the sickening stares she received. Received, and was all too automatic to ignore now. Her mind was worn but at the ready – ever eager to learn more. Eager to prove everyone wrong... Eager for revenge, to snatch her chance at life, and to forget…_

_All eyes in the Great Hall were upon her. All mouths were ajar, hoping desperately to chew away at any bits of her they could get. Natural allure exuded from her, bouncing from her like her shimmering blonde silk against the back of her ostentatiously priced black robes. The woman didn't bother with any ridiculous hats of black, unlike most of her foolish-looking peers. She will not subject herself to such shows of recluse. Only the best, but not for materialistic purposes... But everyone already thinks her so vain; so vain just because of the sheer, pure beauty pumping through her veins, keeping her stride going._

_The eyes upon her and the sweet fascination overhead kept a smile from her face. Her face was too hard and soft to read – a stern, passive expression resided upon her pale flesh. Eyes of an effervescent blue hue dropped to a colour far below freezing point when she willed them to, namely now. Now that the walk has ended, and she no longer has an excuse to focus on her walk…_

_She folded her arms over her well-developing chest and bent a knee while her old friend regarded her snidely. She gave him a friendly snort and her mouth curled slightly while he flashed his eyes of grey knowingly; the Deputy Headmistress set before them a simply repulsive old Hat that neither of the blonds looked overjoyed at even just looking at. And the worst part, the pair concluded, was that the old tattered thing had the gall to sing to them –_

" _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge in what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

_The two blonds rolled their eyes as the Hall burst into a fit of ridiculous applause for a singing, battered old hat that could apparently bow to the four tables as well. The Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall the woman remembered, regarded them sternly while she unfurled a lengthy roll of parchment while she stood aside the hat perched on its stool. Foolish speculation and banter about which Houses would be behove their peers erupted, though merely whispers, angering the two at the fore while McGonagall began calling names in alphabetical order._

" _When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. Again, the two adorned unbecoming faces and rolled their eyes to the Enchanted heavens. "Abbot, Hannah!"_

_The frightened girl was sorted into Hufflepuff, a poor house, thought the woman. The House, she read in_ Hogwarts, A History, _seemed to be overshadowed by the glory of the other Houses. Or so it explained in, well, inexplicable and subtle terms. The two at the fore shared their distaste of that House, and swore not to be placed in it. The next girl, "Bones, Susan," was also sorted into that wretched House of foolish smiling faces. "Boot, Terry," placed into Ravenclaw, seemed to be a vague improvement from the badgers. The sea of blue crests looked somewhat more…acceptable. But not quite enough. "Brocklehurst, Mandy" also went there, but she had a rather unfortunate name. An English name…_

_The blond boy snorted audibly when "Brown, Lavender" was placed in the House of Gryffindor. The table on the far left exploded, much to his and the chagrin of his taller companion. Their sour moods lessened slightly when "Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin. The two deduced that she looked to be very much on the ugly side, and made a curt, silent agreement to not associate themselves with her if they could help it. She did indeed have a stride like a bull and would have no issues ramming into anyone with her careless mannerisms._

_After a disappointing two boys also failed to become Slytherins, the boy finally smirked winningly as "Granger, Hermione" was called. The girl nearly ran into him and his companion in her rush to get to the stool, but he remedied that by promptly tripping her, discreetly of course. The Hall rang nicely with laughter, his included, but not that of staff and his blonde friend. And especially not that of the bushy-haired girl._

_Fortunately for him, no one noticed the alleged tripping. The girl struggled to her feet, and the blonde regarded her meticulously while she did so. Shaky, furious, near tears – the girl had no control over herself. She declined McGonagall's help and brushed herself off on her own. Pride and embarrassment flushed her young features all at the same time and she shot a knowing glance at the blond boy who nearly fell to the floor himself in his laughter._

_She shot a similar glance to the woman at his side, who was not so immature as to laugh. Hermione looked her up and down for a moment, showing obvious distaste with her expensive robes and designer heels, clearly looking out of place among a dwindling queue of eleven-year-olds. A queue that she was holding up, no less… The blonde kept her stern gaze, merely boring her icicles for eyes into the warm, heated, spinning molten russet of the younger girl… When the blonde gave no sign of caring of her presence, and grew bored enough to raise a questioning pristine eyebrow at her, the bushy-haired one had to blink away her tears._

_The girl's eyes were probably her only outstanding feature – her body was under-developed just like her peers, unlike the blonde before her, and her face was not beautiful, but not ugly. Fair, plain, boring, simple, easy… The woman nearly yawned again from boredom and Hermione flared up again._ That _was amusing, but not so much. This imaginary jest was not up to par for the beauty before her, and it angered Hermione even more._

_Sympathy was not a game the blonde played, and this so-called lack of respect angered the fiery young girl more than all of the laughter of everyone on Earth combined. This Hermione character immediately assumed her position of self-righteousness for some imaginary speck of revenge by the look in her eyes – a look of determined hatred, probably just for being blonde and standing so close to the one who_ supposedly _tripped her._

_Just as Headmaster Dumbledore managed to control the volume of laughter in the Hall, Hermione Granger turned her nose up at the only one who was giving her some ounce of respect by not laughing at her, and took careful steps to sit on the stool. No sooner than the hat was on her head did the Hat shout out "GRYFFINDOR!" The blond boy snorted once more and nearly spat on the ground in disgust when the table exploded with cheers, but he smirked slightly when he also heard a fair bit of laughter as well._

_More laughter from others ensued when the unfortunately-named "Longbottom, Neville" was sorted into Gryffindor after much debate from the Hat. The poor boy ran off with the hat still atop his bemused head in his haste to make it to the table. But after one more name, the blonde's companion, "Malfoy, Draco" was finally called upon._

_They nodded to each other before Draco swaggered over to the stool, checking the ground twice for any unsuspecting feet just waiting to trip him. The hat didn't take long to shout out "SLYTHERIN!" for the smug boy, and he immediately strode over to join Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table while the Hall clapped out of strained politeness, save for the genuine pride from the House of Salazar Slytherin._

_After more people seemingly still paying attention to the blonde, who was now observing her French-tipped nails absently, a "Potter, Harry" was called. She continued to observe her nails, noting to herself that her cuticles seemed to be getting unruly in this dreary castle that was fuelled on agony and stark moods. Some seemed scandalised that she was clearly more interested in the deterioration of her nails instead of "Potter, Harry," a mere name to her, becoming a Gryffindor. But the scandals quickly turned into a fawning sort of adoration._

_Her feet were beginning to ache as she waited, patiently of course, for the rest of the names to be called. Headmaster Dumbledore asked that she be Sorted last, for reasons only he seemed to have and was unfortunately rather greedy with his sentiments on her fate. Right after "Zabini, Blaise" was wonderfully placed into Slytherin, McGonagall looked at the blonde carefully before calling out her name._

" _And last, but certainly not least… Delacour, Fleur."_

_Excited whispers and reiterations of her name floated through the Hall, but not through her ears as she walked with a perfected poise to the stool, spiting the Hat for being so filthy and possibly ruining her silk locks as she placed it atop her glowing head. She gave the wall on the far end of the Hall a powerful thousand mile stare as she sat with her learned posture, her same right eyebrow that had the pleasure of raising itself at Hermione Granger was arched up now while she waited._

_The Hat was thinking. Thinking to her, but its thoughts did not matter to her. The sickening stares she received went unnoticed by Fleur – she cared not for them. The Gryffindor lot looked at her expectantly, all except for Hermione Granger, who was busy attempting to rip Fleur's robes to bits with her eyes. Surely this wouldn't be an improvement over the sin of Fleur having the consideration to clothe herself; clothed or not, people will still stare. Hermione will probably never be satisfied._

' _I see now why Dumbledore asked to have you placed last…you're a bit out of place here, aren't you?' thought the Hat._

' _Yes, I am,' Fleur thought back, confident as ever. Sugar coating was an unknown practise to her._

' _Tut, tut… Cold, cynical, dismissive, critical, uncaring, distant – you have these traits. They nearly scream to me from the depths of your mind. But you are also deeply compassionate… Highly intelligent… Nearly fearless... You're highly aware of your background and you embrace it lovingly. You take pride in being French, in being a Veela, in being ahead of your class… But your aloof nature may bite you in the arse sooner rather than later.'_

' _I'm hardly concerned.'_

' _I figured that much… I do remember Dumbledore having something of a pleasant conversation with me about you. Your past…I see it's not a brightly-coloured one. How do you feel about it?'_

' _I would much rather prefer not to discuss it.'_

' _But it's important…'_

' _Just as important as the sun being bright and the nights darker so. I'll pass, thank you.'_

' _So it's a touchy subject.'_

' _Touchy. Touchy is a wonderful word to describe it.'_

' _You're not an adult but you're most certainly not a child anymore. Whichever House I put you in is important. No…it's more than just important. Think to me, Miss Delacour – how do you feel about your past?'_

' _The consequences of it, on me, are only bound to repeat themselves if I let myself become attached to people. I would like to avoid that.'_

' _Loyalty to others is a no, then?'_

' _Loyalty, no. Allowance, and acceptance of people – yes, that is the no.'_

' _Hmm…you've a very bright mind. But you're being foolish, thinking you're better off alone.'_

' _Think whatever you'd like.'_

' _You're a difficult one, Delacour. But even still, you've retained your culture and identity as far as your…heritage is concerned. You cling to it so desperately… It's almost like it's your last grain of life, and you take pride in who you are. You take pride in what you're able to accomplish.'_

' _You're correct.'_

' _Mighty snide for a fourteen-year-old. You certainly seem more mature. Your peers clearly value you for that. And your…exotic aura, I suppose. Your Veela charms affect nearly everyone in here for the worst. And you don't care?'_

' _Those who are my_ real friends _don't. Those are the only ones I associate with.'_

' _Ah yes, your friends. Draco being the one you care for the most. He's a fine boy, and you two are very close. From what I can see, he seems to think of you as an older sister. He understands you. But you haven't seen the outside world, and him, in five years. Don't you think your vision of the world is twisted? Warped, even?'_

' _Non. I take pride in the studies I've done in secret over those five years.'_

' _Yes, yes…you're an extraordinary witch, even if the wand you previously possessed was used rather illegally. Still, you're well above your years among your First Year peers. You're positive you needn't skip a few years?'_

' _I'm quite positive.'_

' _Alright. Just don't let your past control you, Delacour…'_

' _I know what I'm doing.'_

' _Hmm…and for once, I'm not sure I know what I'm doing… You're a fascinating one, Fleur Delacour. Just do me one favour.'_

' _What would that be…?'_

' _Keep a steady mind and set an example for your peers. Be the one they all look up to and don't let anything keep you down. You've overcome too much to let anyone degrade you in any way possible. Keep your head held high but don't wear your heart on your designer robes sleeve. You've got talent…hoards of talent… Show that to everyone.'_

' _Fair enough.'_

" _SLYTHERIN!"_

* * *

Fleur had successfully followed the Sorting Hat's advice from all of those years ago, a little less than two weeks after her fourteenth birthday. She sat on her four poster bed in the Slytherin dungeons, playing vaguely with something in her lithe digits. No one else in the dungeons that night but Draco, her confidant even now at the start of their Seventh Year, knew that she was now the ripe old age of twenty. A scandal it would be if people knew. The quarter Veela did not mind if the information was out there, but she rather preferred to keep her life private.

She lay on her bed, head propped on a pillow, knees bent and her legs crossed over each other. Her body sunk slightly into the extremely soft mattress under her emerald duvet, and her skin glowed slightly to offset the stark surroundings of her room. Stone-coloured walls adorned by many star charts, to-do lists, other organisational lists, future books to pick up, complex number charts for Arithmancy, as well as posters of many French celebrities whom she admired for their respective careers surrounded her. They gave her room a homey feeling. Something less…desolate… Her room was clean, near Spartan-like in appearance. But she wouldn't go so far as to call it _tidy._ It didn't fit.

Her long night shirt clung to her body that many clearly noticed seemed far more developed than the average, _expected_ seventeen-year-old. Her thighs and legs were exposed, her toes pointed gracefully while she swung her foot to and fro a tune playing in her head. An old, Romantic piano piece by a wonderful Polish composer. _Music, a magic even Hogwarts can't compete with…_ But Fleur herself was widely known among the school as yet something else that neither Hogwarts nor anyone else for that matter could faze.

The Frenchwoman eyed her plaything lazily, eyes hazing over with a bit of washed over tiredness from the feast. Freezing shivers ensnared her, neither from the temperature nor the chill-inducing thunderstorm she heard, even with the Slytherin dungeons being under the Black Lake.

A very placid, humble satisfaction overtook her from the object being furled in between her slender fingers and inch-long nails. French-tipped, but of course… Her wardrobe still consisted of fine French outfits, despite many and all of her shoes being quite Scotland-inappropriate, considering its weather. But the familiar feeling of her pedicure feeling numb on her could never compare to the chill from this object in her hands.

Lightning flashed and thunder hovered through her ears seconds later, but she dared not stir. Fleur watched the swell of her chest rise and fall just under her chin, thinking of all of her years being confined to a castle that was, and will forever be depression incarnate. The one hundred and forty two staircases, trick doors, vanishing steps, long corridors, hidden rooms and passageways will forever be so familiar to her.

A curious mind with an even more curious exterior wandered the castle, day and night, for nearly seven years. Seven years of compulsory magical education, and seven years of having a home… Fleur was grateful, and never once thought her long summers and other holidays in the castle to be boring or lonely. The library would be her home forevermore.

So many long years of easily ignoring jealousy, envy, lust and sickening stares from others… So many years of feeling her heart slowly deteriorate every time she attempts to keep her indifference on her face whenever _home_ is mentioned. _Family, friends, home-cooked meals, holiday spirit –_ Fleur knew them not. She had friends in this castle. That was not a lie. But friends who knew her inside and out, no. But she was impenetrable. No one needed to know of her past, only her present and future. But even then, she kept that well-hidden behind her successes. Successes…

The main success glinting nicely in her hands right now, sending more shivers through her barely sun-kissed flesh… Beating others was not her priority, though many favoured in dwelling on this while they wallowed in their failures. She had simply done as the Sorting Hat advised her – was that so wrong? Was it so wrong to be on top after having her whole world ripped from right under her young, hurting, scarred, bleeding feet when she was but nine years old? People take their blessings for granted…but Fleur Delacour did not.

And yet no one could ever find it in their hearts to think for a second that she did not. No one cared. Everyone assumed. Everyone assumed. Assumptions, assumptions, _assumptions…_

People will drive themselves mad with assumptions. _Some_ already have. Fleur knew this all too well, but was hardly bothered to care.

* * *

Hermione was _furious._ Lavender and Parvati giggled incessantly upon their arrival, finding that their old roommate was sadly still their very, _very_ current roommate. Ginny watched the exchange warily whilst she unpacked her hand-me-downs gingerly, careful to not make too many sudden movements in case she drowned out the sound of Hermione possibly saying something in retort. Unfortunately for the redhead, Hermione was seething too much to say anything; lying on her four poster bed, which seemed more uncomfortable than in years past, was all she could do to keep herself calm.

_The Hogwarts Express ride was simply abysmal. The Prefect Cabin was absolutely shocked upon seeing that Hermione Granger, Witch Extraordinaire, best friend of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley who, all three, helped to defeat Lord Voldemort in their Fifth Year, was not wearing a Head Girl badge. She merely had a Prefect badge pinned over her robes. People giggled incessantly and Ron reddened considerably upon seeing his friend in such a state – Hermione looked absolutely livid, and he feared that she'd hex the lot in the cabin before they could even manage to sit down. To both his and Hermione's chagrin, Malfoy wasn't in either._

_It wasn't until he walked in with Fleur Delacour, Head badges over both their breasts, that Hermione and Ron, and even some of the other Prefects, sans Slytherins, looked absolutely appalled. Fleur and Draco both had their silver and emerald ties knotted loosely around their necks and both adorned only the finest black robes from Gladrags; both of them looked as uncaring and scornful as ever._

_After the moment of shock from everyone but Hermione and Pansy from Fleur walking in the compartment, many had jealousy and envy written all over their faces. Fleur clearly didn't care, Draco was sneering, and Pansy was smirking; these three were nearly inseparable, and Pansy was looking forward to all of the wonderful opportunities to take advantage of two of her best friends being Heads._

_To everyone else, two Slytherins being Heads of the school just didn't seem right, despite the Head Girl being impossibly beautiful. Her thrall floated lazily through the room, unnoticed and untended by the Veela; Fleur preferred to let the mystery of her elegance sift throughout her surroundings for no reason in particular. And yet, many of them felt uncomfortable, despite the euphoria, especially now that one of them, Draco Malfoy, had a rather…tainted name now._

_Still, Fleur and Draco had their heads held high. Though Fleur never had an ounce of arrogance, Draco tried his best to play his part appropriately while they conducted their meeting. Draco had a few words to say, and no one in the compartment even had the energy to try and ignore his authority._

" _Right…so basically," the blond droned, "I'm Head Boy if you haven't figured it out already. My good friend Fleur here is Head Girl. Get out of line with us and we'll have your asses handed to you. Well, probably me more than Fleur. You're too soft, you know that? Or maybe you just don't care."_

" _Draco, please," Fleur said curtly. Her French accent was somewhat apparent, but she made sure to articulate her syllables nicely while ignoring the poorly concealed sighs from everyone except Pansy and Hermione. The latter of who was reddening increasingly fast. Fleur ignored her. "Don't use this as an opportunity to start trouble before we've even set foot in the castle."_

" _Yeah alright Fleur… So listen up, maggots," Draco continued. Fleur folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes while many suppressed groans of disapproval. Draco appeared not to have noticed. "We're in charge. We being Fleur and myself. You can dock points, but any serious matters such as detention need to be brought to us or Professors. And don't go bollocking around and get yourselves in a pinch. The last thing we need is Snape getting in our ass about you lot fucking up."_

" _Draco," Fleur pressed sternly. Draco pursed his lips and fell silent before resigning himself to sitting down next to Pansy; Fleur was the only one he'd let override his authority. All eyes were locked on Fleur before, but now she commanded attention more fully with her companion out of the picture. Not a rare sighting, nor did it fluster the Frenchwoman. She continued, her tone revealing nothing but a bit of spite and nonchalance, as always. Hermione sniffed at this. "At any rate, most of us have heard this speech already. But for everyone else, Draco essentially said everything you need to know. If neither he nor I can be found, speak with a Slytherin Prefect to have them check on our dorms._

" _The standard Hogwarts rules still apply, regardless if you have a place of authority or not. Because you have a badge gleaming on your chest, I expect you to keep your heads on your necks and realise that you'd be hard-pressed to even think to take advantage of your privileges. Privileges, not rights… I can refer you to the handbook Filch generously prepared for Prefects should you consider getting out of line. Now, Draco, get out that notebook I gave to you and write down the schedule for Prefect rounds."_

In short, Hermione was quite displeased to see her authority being overridden by Fleur of all people. Her summer at the Burrow was nothing but a heap of embarrassment that neither she, Ron, or Harry had received Head badges by owl. Hermione had even checked her envelope five times to make sure that the badge wasn't hidden somewhere, and had almost resorted to manhandling the poor owl who delivered it, but Mrs. Weasley had calmly sent her off.

Ron didn't even dare make fun of her – he and Harry knew well enough to not poke fun at Hermione having her title imaginarily stripped from her. Hermione had been modest before that, insisting that she probably wasn't going to get Head Girl. It wasn't until now that she realised she'd said such things to undermine the possibility of her really _not_ getting the badge. Seeing the emerald and silver one on _Fleur Delacour's_ chest, which no one failed to notice was absolutely _divine,_ was so much more of an insult, she concluded while she lay in darkness now.

Her curtains were over her bed, concealing her from the sight of her roommates sleeping soundly. The Gryffindor admitted to herself, and only herself, that she knew good and well that Fleur deserved her title. She didn't want to get into Malfoy's title – Harry and Ron had enough fury over that for the three of them combined. But _she wanted_ to be Head Girl – Fleur didn't even care!

Fleur was always so indifferent about everything, and Hermione had no logical reason to spite the girl. The jealousy that Fleur can easily command the attention of anyone in any room of any size bothered her. The envy that Fleur was recognised for her wit, ambition, bravery, _and_ loyalty nearly marred Hermione… _Fleur's so pretty, Fleur's so mature – Fleur's so smart, Fleur can beat Hermione Granger at anything any day…_

Everywhere Hermione went, whispers about Fleur fluttered through the halls. Even Lavender and Parvati gossiped about her frequently, swearing up and down that the temptress was in some high-profile, secret relationship with Malfoy, despite Malfoy being glued to Pansy Parkinson's side more often than not. Ever since day one at Hogwarts, Hermione was forever overshadowed by the Exquisite Greatness that was Fleur Delacour, the mysterious French Veela whose slight accent only added to her allure and a little more daze oozing out of the sighs she received from nearly every student in the castle.

Fleur didn't pay anyone any mind if they weren't Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, or Blaise Zabini. Her posse followed her incessantly, her vague form of security from rabid fan boys and fan girls of her non-existent fan club. Many recognise that Hermione is likely the only one in the castle who hates her, and they all mock her for the obvious fact that Fleur clearly does not care. Fleur does not care about those that supposedly don't hate her, those that claim to be in love with her, or anyone if not in her group of Slytherin friends…

An unspoken rivalry that has stressed Hermione out well beyond her seventeen years, and not a day for Fleur – Hermione has lost the final battle for Head Girl. All she could do was up Fleur in class, and her pride depended on it. After all of Hermione's long years of wanting to show the world that brains beat beauty, Fleur is the embodiment of everything she stands for being spun, tripped, and ripped into some distorted reality that she _can't_ handle… And yet the girl is just so cold and aloof about everything.

Well, _**no more**_. _This_ year, Hermione is going for a different approach. After being obsessed over this girl, though she'd never admit it, Hermione was determined to find out what her deal is. There must be something. It's _impossible_ for anyone to be so successful and not let the glory inflate their heads at all; Hermione was far too frazzled and frustrated to believe anything else.

The possibility that Hermione was being fickle never crossed her mind while she drifted off to sleep, looking forward to preparing for N.E.W.T.s, and resigned that Fleur was inevitably up to something.


	2. discoveries

_when you think you know everything.._

_just take some time; back up..._

_stop and smell the roses_

_and appreciate the breeze..._

_**ii.** _ _discoveries_

_It was just another familiar night in Hogwarts her first year. And there she sat in the chilly room that night, alone, right in front of the very object that could very well drive her mad. But this was the one time she was allowed not to care. She could let go of things like that now. The moonlight bouncing off the stone walls and floor gave her comfort, but nothing more so than the image before her reflecting in her determinedly stern eyes._

_Three people – her mother, her father, and her baby sister. They smiled at her, Gabrielle herself managing the cutest smile to ever adorn her innocent tiny face. Fleur had difficulty remembering to breathe while she tried to ignore her constricted chest, focusing so hard on the sight in front of her. The Mirror of Erised was a wonderful thing… Perhaps, so wonderful, that she never wanted to leave. But she came back every night to have a chat with her family. Fleur wanted them to know of her successes._

" _Maman, Papa, Gabrielle… I miss you all terribly," she admitted softly in French. Her eyes betrayed her, stinging slightly and glinting with a pained sadness that she knew all too well that she needed to hide at all times… "The Wizards who put me in that orphanage in London hid my identity and it took forever for Dumbledore to find me. I know you all had high hopes of me going to Beauxbatons, but Hogwarts will do… It's terribly cold here, and the food is not like what we had, but it's better than whatever they gave me in that orphanage for five years._

" _The people here…they all seem overbearing and terrible. They fawn over me like you said they would, Papa. I never asked for the attention, but even the ones who do not want to give it to me so easily. Draco is doing well. He keeps insisting on teasing Harry Potter for some reason. I do not see why. Harry is like me, I think. But he gets shy and jittery from the attention he receives. I just don't care._

" _I want to go back to France, back home…even the Malfoy Manor is better than this old castle. The weather is terrible and the classes are mediocre. But I have taken a liking to Charms and Herbology…_

" _My friends here are really my friends, though. I question Gregory and Vincent sometimes, but they're surprisingly building immunity to my thrall. Draco was never affected. Theodore is okay with it, as is Blaise. Pansy is alright, but I don't think my thrall works on girls anyway. Regardless, people are always staring…_

" _Today, some girl named Hermione got angry at me for Transfiguring a match into a needle on my first try before she could. She's one of the people who have their priorities mixed up. Self-gratification for her wits is probably what she lives off of. Stupid, isn't it? But who am I to judge her? I don't know her. I know that her hair is too bushy and her front teeth are too large. Her eyes are powerful but she is not. She gets angry every time I ignore her and every time I look at her indifferently. She's never satisfied with anything in her life…_

" _Must there always be someone in life who will just be there to put you down? That's who Hermione is to me. Everyone puts her down so she takes it out on me, I think. I try to pretend like I don't care – she's only eleven. I'm fourteen. I don't care really, but I worry about her. Not so much to the point where I'd ask her what her problem is, but I'm sick of people who use me in some way. Lucius used me to try and pretend like he was still in the Dark Lord's good graces. And Hermione uses me because she's so miserable with her own life._

" _I've learned my lesson about not seeking revenge on others and such. I can tell that she may be a problem in the future, but I don't care. I'm just going to be myself. Speaking of that, there's a wonderful field of flowers out behind the greenhouses… I'm going to ask Professor Sprout about them tomorrow. I miss the one we had in the backyard. I miss you three most of all, though…"_

* * *

The following morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at breakfast, comparing schedules with their Housemates as McGonagall distributed them. Hermione was thrilled, seeing that she had Advanced Arithmancy first thing that morning. She had poured over numerous number charts that summer in preparation for her N.E.W.T. level coursework, and she took pride in being the only Gryffindor in her year taking the class. Ron noted dully that Fleur was also bound to continue the course, upon which Hermione grumbled and stuffed her schedule in her bag before grumpily returning to her meal.

"Oh great," Ron groaned. "Double Potions with the Slytherins before dinner tonight… Least we have Charms with the Ravenclaws. They're alright. _Herbology_ with Slytherins, _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ with Slytherins… Blimey!"

"Well, look on the bright side," Harry offered. "At least Lupin's back for the Defence post."

"Yeah…I guess. But _still!_ Shifty lot, those Slytherins. We'll get 'em good this year, 'n hopefully Malfoy falls off his broom or something."

"I guess," Harry shrugged, not really one to wish bodily harm on others, Malfoy or not. "I'm more worried about end of year exams."

"Bah, we've got Hermione! Don't get your hair in a bunch, Harry."

"You'll have to ask Fleur if you want help with Herbology or Charms, Ronald," Hermione sniffed, still shovelling food in her mouth.

"Oh, oh – sorry. I forgot you're still mad at her. Those her two best subjects or somethin'?"

" _Yes."_

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"Does it matter?" Hermione snapped.

"Here we go…" Ron sighed.

"What are you on about?" demanded Hermione.

"N-nothing, sorry. Anyway…you ready to go? Harry 'n me have Divination first."

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out with Harry and Ron at her heel. Harry was patting Ron on the shoulder consolingly as they kept a decent distance behind her; her temper seemed like it would never calm down, not even if Fleur died and they offered the Head Girl position to Hermione instead.

Just as the three were about to part ways to go to their respective classrooms, Fleur and friends came round the bend to see her off as well. Malfoy smirked at Harry and Ron – they always tensed up whenever he was around. Pansy and Theodore sniggered childishly when the two groups came to a halt. Blaise and Fleur looked rather indifferent and exchanged bored looks while Malfoy spoke.

"Well, well, well. Top of the mornin' to ya, chaps. And lady."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron glowered.

"What? Are we not allowed to have some friendly chit-chat? I thought we were all friends here?" Malfoy beamed, brushing off his Head Boy badge as he did.

"You can't take points away for no reason," Hermione pointed out irritably. All of the Slytherins but Fleur and Blaise chuckled, and Pansy smiled sweetly before speaking up.

"What better reason to dock points than for you being in our way? Now how about you move before Malfoy lets slip that he'd like you to have detention with Snape?"

"Cut it out," Harry snarled. "Should have known you all would take the opportunity to abuse your power. You're all terrible."

"At least we _have_ power, Potter. I don't see a badge on _your_ chest," Malfoy remarked snidely. "Too bad, too bad – defeating the Dark Lord doesn't qualify you for any sort of metals. Or better friends who could even afford anything of the sort."

"Goddamnit, Malfoy, sod off!" Ron barked. Hermione grabbed his arm before he could advance any further, and Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles appropriately.

"Just stop! It's not _worth_ it—"

"It's not _worth_ it!" Malfoy mocked in a false girly voice. Hermione blushed furiously and let go of Ron.

They all cracked up again except for Fleur and Blaise, who nodded to each other before walking off to their classrooms. The rest of the Slytherins stood there, dumbfounded. Harry, Ron and Hermione were also baffled – it's taken them years to realise that Blaise and Fleur never join in on the jest. Hermione shook her head and mumbled some kind of goodbye to Harry and Ron before they all dispersed.

Hermione kept her head low while she walked a safe distance behind Fleur's billowing robes. She went and made a fool of herself for the umpteenth time in front of Fleur. The annoying sound of the Veela's heels clicking in the hall made Hermione sigh irritably; she was the only one in the castle who wore heels. How long was it going to take for her to realise that it's too cold here for that?

She was too annoyed, taking her glorious chance in having a reason to mentally reprimand Fleur that she didn't notice she walked into the Arithmancy classroom and took the seat at the desk with Fleur in the back of the classroom. Before she could even think to get up and move, Professor Vector greeted them and jotted down the seating arrangement with glee, glad to see some House unity happening. Hermione kept her groans to herself and stayed seated.

While the rest of the class filed in, Hermione was torn in between wondering if this was a good situation or not. She kept watching Fleur out of the corner of her eye, hoping she'd make a remark about why Hermione was sitting next to her. But Fleur said nothing. Hermione felt much shorter than she was with Fleur nearly towering over her. She stared ahead the whole time, eyebrows knitted and jaw set, only moving her hand up occasionally to brush her fringes from her eyes.

Hermione focused on her notes during class, noting to herself that Fleur smelled of earth and flowers. She was expecting some expensive perfume of some sort, really. Now that she noticed it, Hermione couldn't ignore the smell while she flipped through her textbook to the page Professor Vector asked. Fleur didn't move, she didn't even get out her textbook – she only stared straight ahead, twiddling her quill in her fingers like a baton. Hermione smirked inwardly; she must have forgotten her book. She wasn't prepared for class, then.

"Miss Delacour," Professor Vector called. Fleur showed no sign of acknowledgment. "I assume without your text you can tell me the Character Number of your partner, Hermione Granger?" Hermione smiled; Fleur _couldn't_ have memorised—

"Four."

"Y-yes…very good. Would you mind explaining how you did this in your head so quickly?"

"You advised us, as a joke I presume, at the beginning of our first class in the Third Year to listen to words in terms of splitting letters we hear into the three rows of seven letters that depict the seven planets. Hermione's full name adds up to forty-nine. Four and nine add to thirteen. One and three equals four. Elementary, Professor."

"Why yes…yes, very good. Five points to Slytherin for your sharp ears. Now…"

Hermione felt like a right idiot for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

The days turned into two weeks, and Arithmancy lessons next to Fleur didn't get any better than the first. Hermione became flustered in her efforts to learn her methodical thinking, but the only thing it helped with were the essays Professor Vector assigned for homework. Fleur would always, _somehow,_ have a longer scroll of parchment than Hermione by at least five inches every time. It was the same problem with every other class she had with Fleur just like it's been ever since their first year…

Ron and Hermione were sitting alone in the common room that night; Harry had gone to bed early after growing frustrated with his own homework, on top of Malfoy threatening to take points away from them every time they conveniently ran into each other in the corridors. Both he and Ron were tired from Quidditch starting up again as well. Hermione was equally frustrated with everything else on her mind while she scribbled away, the sound of both of their quills scratching along with the crackling fire ringing calmly in their ears.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly after a while. Hermione stopped writing and gave him her attention, not at all annoyed for the brief breather. "Look…I know we've had a crappy week…but you seem a little up tight. M-more than usual. Is it just 'cause of Malfoy, or…?"

"Malfoy… Malfoy, Pansy, all of them. All of them! They just think they can take advantage of none of us being Heads. They're being downright repulsive, more so than before. As if they have nothing else better to do!"

"Well they kinda don't, y'know…"

"What's your point?"

"I'm just worried about you… Usually you're calm about them 'n all…keepin' me 'n Harry in line 'bout our tempers. Did they say something to you?"

"No."

"Did they look at you funny…?"

"No!"

"Then why've you been so determined to use every inch of the parchment we all bought? Fresh stack and you've been borrowing from _me_ of all people—"

"Because Fleur's up to something!"

"Fleur…?"

"Yes, you know Fleur! She's…she's…!"

"She's doing her work and not saying anything to anyone…?"

"No! No, something's not adding up! How is it possible that she's…"

"Better…than you…at everything."

"What? No! What are you on about?"

"Hermione, calm down… I know you're angry that she got Head Girl and you didn't, alright? Personally I was hopin' Harry'd get Head Boy; I'm lousy. To be honest, yeah, I was expectin' you to get Head Girl. But you didn't so we have to trust that Dumbledore made the right choice. You know the man, he has his reasons for stuff…"

"…you're right. I'm just a little irked that Fleur's always _there…_ She's always there, taking everything in sight that she can get her claws on."

"I doubt she does it on purpose… I mean, you have every reason as her to do your best. Who knows…"

"Ron, not to be mean, but since when do you actually _notice_ what people are going through?"

"Err…well, really, Harry noticed but he wasn't sure how to ask you… So he offered that I talk to you… Because…um…"

"Because…?"

"BecauseIlikeyou."

"I'm sorry…?"

"…because…I…like…you. I like you a lot, Hermione… An'…if it makes you feel any better, I'm one thing Fleur can never take away from you. She can't take you away, either… you're a great person… She's too cold 'n distant to know what it's like to have a friend like you… 'n I just… well… I mean I can understand if you don't…don't like me back… Sorry I took so long to tell you…"

Hermione stared at Ron in a silent shock while the poor boy bit his lip and started collecting his things. Ron didn't dare look her in the eye while he held everything in his arms, torn between getting up and continuing to sit there. His face flushed, the colour moving down to his neck while the silence stung his ears. But his discomfort could not compare to his friends' at all.

Hermione's mind was running wild, trying in vain to figure out if she'd ever led him on or not. She didn't consider their constant bickering to be anything beyond the norm. In fact, she considered Ron to be rather stable if he had it in him to argue with her over this and that.

Her stomach began to clench and churn with guilt and her throat seemed to be out of order; she couldn't manage to say anything at all. She hoped desperately that Ron would keep talking to jog her throat, and he thankfully did so even if he was tripping over every syllable.

"I'm really sorry… I mean…if it wasn't for you, I dunno where we'd be… I mean, Harry 'n Ginny are happy… I figured I'd get the courage to tell you b-before…someone else did… I care about you…a lot. I hate seein' you so frustrated over Fleur… But you're better than her, you know. You're way better… You actually have a heart, y'know… You don't have friends that like puttin' innocent people down…

"An' you know…? Fleur may have her looks but so do you. Don't compare yourself to her, Hermione. She's alone here 'n probably doesn't know how to cope. But me 'n Harry care about you loads, you know that… She doesn't know what she's missin', bein' distant to you 'n all that… But I see what I'm missin' out on… 'n I'd like it if we could…well…be more. If y-you want, that is… I'd never pressure you into anything… S-so...what do y'say?"

"Ahh…Ron, I… I'm not… I'm not sure…"

"I-it's okay, Hermione! R-really! J-just…just think about it? Please?" Hermione nodded slowly, already feeling she was making a mistake with such a small gesture… Ron tried to smile while he stood up with his things. "Okay…okay, great. I'll um…I'll see you in the mornin'. I won't bug you about it or anything…I'll wait 'till you're ready to talk, yes or no…"

Hermione swallowed the knot in her throat while she nodded again before Ron trudged up to the boys' dormitories. Her eyes were wide while she kept staring at one corner of the room with such a distant expression that she couldn't feel her face and eyes anymore. A numbness overtook her but she wasn't thinking about Ron.

She was thinking about Fleur.

Ron said that Fleur is alone here and doesn't know how to cope. Hermione felt a little odd not thinking about Ron's declaration, and instead could only focus on what he'd said about Fleur. She had a nagging feeling throughout her body, telling her that Ron might have been right. And if he wasn't at least right about the coping, then he was right that she was alone.

Hermione bit her lip guiltily and collected her things too before heading up to her dormitory, her mind still reeling about Fleur. She really _hasn't_ done anything to anyone except what she's been expected to do – her duties and staying on top of schoolwork. Her eyes adjusted from the dim light of the common room to the darkness of her cool dormitory while she walked quietly to her bed, the sounds of deep breathing joining her thoughts about the Veela.

She set everything down on her dresser before pulling out her cloak; Hermione decided with a quiet sigh to take a walk, hoping to not run into Malfoy. If anything, she'd make an excuse that she was doing her Prefect rounds; surely he hadn't memorised the list.

But that wouldn't be the first time she doubted a Slytherin's _memory…_

A deep sigh escaped Hermione's lips while she went back downstairs, pausing momentarily to look at that same corner she was staring at when she first changed her mind about Fleur. Her eyes went out of focus after a while, and she shook her head lightly before continuing to climb out of the portrait hole.

Her footsteps echoed softly through the halls as she walked, her mind vaguely telling her feet to take her out to the grounds. The possibility that she'd gotten herself worked up over false ideas all these years seemed to make a dull haze float through her system. Her stomach was still tied in knots just like her throat – she still felt bad that she wasn't taking Ron's confession into consideration and was instead wondering if she'd been wrong about Fleur. She wasn't sure if she felt anything for Ron, but she knew she felt very foolish about everything now. _Everything…_

People in their portraits nagged Hermione for waking them with her footsteps, but she was too caught up in her thoughts to think to snap back. Hermione knew what it was like to be alone and to feel out of place. Fleur really hasn't done anything wrong to her.

In fact…wasn't it she who had looked for a reason to hate her? A bout of self-righteousness and self-gratification for a moment of embarrassment that still seemed to be at her heels, even now… Hermione admitted to herself that she learned to watch her step more often to prevent herself from tripping and falling. But the way she'd looked at Fleur with such scorn, it was like Hermione thought Fleur had pushed her down.

As she left the safety of the castle and made it to the grounds, the crisp mid-September air bit into her. She hugged her cloak around herself while she kept walking, feeling more and more remorseful with each painful step she took. She was stressed out from the imaginary rivalry, from the pungent need from her pride to out-do Fleur, and from years of never ever being satisfied with her efforts. Her studies had turned into a chore. It seemed as if she no longer learned to embrace the knowledge; only to show Fleur up, which she'd never been able to do. Not once…

Hermione remembered how surprised she was when she'd discovered that Fleur smelled of such a natural, earthy scent. Of course her name meant 'flower' in French, so there was a bit of a link… Hermione felt a small smile tug at the edges of her mouth while she directed herself in the direction of the greenhouses, feeling her hair whipping behind her from the chilling wind. She narrowed her eyes and held her breath, making a note to wear layers at all times in case she ever up and decided to take other random walks about the grounds.

She was turning eighteen at the end of the week but she most certainly didn't feel like she was. After all she'd been through, she thought she could spot the right answers to everything so simply. But that clearly wasn't the case right now, and she couldn't fathom how and why it was bothering her so. Immense guilt weighed her down while she finally got to the greenhouses, already hearing the sound of someone on the grass nearby. Even if it was Fleur, what would she do…? Apologise? Fleur wouldn't even care… Still, Hermione needed to do something.

And when she finally did find Fleur, she kept approaching, completely baffled as to why she felt so nervous. Hermione was astounded at what she was doing, for one… it couldn't compare to the sight that she never seemed to notice after all of their years of taking Herbology. Hermione felt drawn to Fleur; drawn to the Frenchwoman who was actually on her knees, wearing Muggle garden gloves while she tended to an insanely large field of…flowers…

Ordinary flowers, magical flowers… Fleur was taking care of them all. The field was probably as large as the Great Hall, and they all looked to be in such wonderful health…

Hermione felt her heart beat a little differently, simply amazed that someone as cold and distant as Fleur would have the heart to be so subdued here. Not even the cold fazed her; she was wearing Muggle jeans and a short sleeved shirt. Her hair seemed to be shimmering even more in the moonlight, and she was humming a familiar tune. Fleur…humming? She was…happy here…

Hermione couldn't move. The shame she felt for her assumptions stung the knots from her throat and coated her eyes with tears when Fleur started speaking softly to herself while she moved slightly to tend to the batch of magical flowers… They were all so beautiful.

Ron was completely, completely wrong about her.


	3. vertigo

_the leaves began to fall.._

_and no one spoke at all…_

_but I can't seem to recall.._

_when you came along.._

_ingenue…_

_~Life in Mono by Mono_

_**iii.** _ _vertigo_

_Fleur and Hermione stood across from each other along the long row of tables in the Great Hall that afternoon. The Enchanted ceiling showed a clear December sky, the students surrounding the tables were looking on in glee, and Lockhart was beaming as opposed to Snape, who was looking smug for once – Hermione didn't look very certain of herself during this confrontation._

_Snape had insisted that Hermione face off with Fleur since no one else was brave enough to do so. Even now, Hermione felt the nerves attack her and make her knees weak; Fleur was standing in profile just feet away from her, her wand held lazily in front of her at her thigh… She looked fearless. Her sapphire eyes were dark with resentment and a modest indifference for being paired with a girl whose practical skills most likely left too much to be desired._

_Hermione's mind was racing while she too stood in profile, but her hand gripping her wand was trembling; she knew Fleur could tell. Fleur was also seemingly waiting for her to make the first move. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, thought Hermione. They were the same age, they had the same amount of practise…_

_A foolish pool of pride swelled in her heart while she kept eye contact with Fleur, completely oblivious to her folly._

"Incarcerous!"

 _Hermione tried to send ropes to attack Fleur, but the French girl's reaction nearly knocked her off her feet – Fleur elegantly swished her wand up in a vertical motion, using a non-verbal version of_ Diffindo _, the Severing Charm, to cut the ropes before they even made it to her side of the room…_

_Everyone except for Snape was baffled, amazed; Fleur merely stepped forward, no longer bothering to stay in profile. All eyes stayed on her with as much dazed concentration as watching a tennis ball go back and forth across the court, on top of the students being enraptured with her presence. Hermione took a step back, thrown by Fleur's mastery of non-verbal spells; she couldn't win this battle at all…_

_Fleur kept advancing and Hermione let out a strained whimper; she hit Hermione with a Sponge-Knees Curse, rendering the girl incapable of movement. The fear in Hermione's eyes did not faze Fleur; she kept walking. The foolish pride Hermione felt turned into boiling anger and fear that Fleur was so experienced. Fleur would forever beat her at everything, no matter how hard she worked… But that just can't_ be…

"Stupefy—"

_A Silencing Charm, successfully negating her weak and silly Stunning Spell, assaulted Hermione and now she knew she had lost. The students and Lockhart gasped; Fleur continued to advance. Hermione was blushing furiously, Fleur was getting closer still… The sound of her heels clicking and clicking underneath her skirt was maddening. The cheers of the students for Fleur to finish Hermione off was mind-boggling… How did she learn so much…? Why didn't Hermione think to become this advanced as well…?_

_It was over… It was all over. Fleur was just a few steps away from her now. Fleur was probably going to say something to Hermione; it was at this fearful moment that Hermione realised she and Fleur had never uttered a word directly to each other. The tension and fear was taut now; the cheers kept bouncing around the Hall, her knees were still sponge, her voice still could not work… Snape must have known about Fleur's superior abilities – this just wasn't fair at all! What kind of Second Year already knows how to perform non-verbal spells?_

_But the second Fleur was within two steps of her, she stopped. The students and Lockhart waited with bated breath for Fleur's next move. What would she do…? The fear in Hermione's eyes probably gave Fleur some sick satisfaction. Hermione felt like sobbing, but then Fleur did something she wasn't…quite expecting._

_Fleur reversed her Curse and Charm. Hermione and everyone else but Snape was shocked. The Gryffindor simply stood there under Fleur's powerful, cold gaze, frozen with fear. Her heart hadn't beaten so fast since last year in her, Harry and Ron's efforts to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. What on Earth was Fleur planning now…?_

_Just as Hermione was about to possibly say something, her jaw clamped shut when Fleur got down on one knee and bent her head low. Hermione watched the sunlight dance on her platinum silk locks, completely paralysed; the Veela set her wand down at Hermione's feet, then looked back up at the frightened and still somehow amazed lion before uttering her surrender to Hermione and the end of the Duel._

" _I concede."_

* * *

And now, Fleur was upon her knees as she worked, humming a tune to herself in between a private chat to the winds. She didn't mind the cold now that she was out here, tending to these magical beauties. Fleur was in her element here – no one knew of these flowers except for Neville Longbottom, and he had his own field behind Greenhouse Eight. But Greenhouse Four was where Fleur's resided.

She was attempting to seek out the poisonous flowers in the bunch and pick them by hand before their magic and poison could spread to the harmless plants, still musing to herself about that day in her Second Year.

"Mmm… That Duelling Club… I don't really remember why I conceded. I guess it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Snape knew I was better than her but made me go against her anyway. Well…not better. Just more experienced. I'm sure she's improved greatly by now.

"I suppose…maybe…I conceded to show her that I didn't mean for her to think that I was aiming to win. I only used the spells I did to make sure she wouldn't run away or fend me off with spells of her own. My whole point was to concede from the second Snape made her get on that table now that I think about it. I don't know why she was so mad at me…

"But I remember what you said, Papa – treat everyone with utmost respect, most especially if they don't like you. I'm not going to kill myself just because my existence is her reason for disliking me. But…maybe it'd be a nice excuse. I've been having those thoughts again lately.

"I never tell anyone about them. The last thing I need is people thinking I'm suicidal. I'm not sure…maybe I am. Maybe people would learn to revaluate their petty beliefs about people in general, not just me. That and I'm just tired of this…ache. This dull, dull ache in my chest… I miss you all. I thought maybe I'd grow out of it and move on, but no…

"What am I supposed to do after I graduate…? Where am I supposed to go? I'm never going to make a living doing anything I want to do. I don't know what I want. I just want to be normal…unnoticed… I want to work my way to the top without getting the easy way up because of the way I look. What I wouldn't give to be beautiful, but not _this_ kind of beautiful. A gentle one…a more subdued beauty…that would be wonderful…"

Fleur nodded to herself while she felt a sigh of relief leave her; it always helped to talk about her problems, especially if no one was around to hear. She had a rather funny superstition that had to do with a fear of talking about things in the open. Paranoia that someone really would overhear her overtook her at times, but no one would be foolish enough to come out here so late.

A strange chill enshrouded her while she wrapped both of her hands along the stem of the last dangerous flower in her reach. While she bent down, careful not to breathe in the pollen, she took precaution to not put her palms and fingers over the thorns, but her concentration was thrown immediately when she heard someone… _crying._

The sound startled Fleur beyond belief, and she made the mistake of inhaling sharply and gripping the stems, stabbing her palms and fingers with the thorns. Fleur widened her eyes and carefully retracted her trembling hands away; the pain was surprisingly minimal, and she was very, very wary of this... She swallowed and kept her strength while she whipped around to face the…the _thing_ that did this to her…

"Fleur… I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to frighten you… I j-just… um…well…"

Fleur heard a faint ringing in her ears while she used her bleeding hands to push herself to her feet. She regarded Hermione carefully, trying desperately to tell herself that she'd be fine – the flower wouldn't kill her. She felt somewhat dizzy, but it was nothing.

Shivers took over her body while she observed Hermione; leaves from trees nearby began to fall, being jostled about by the wind. Neither of them spoke at all. Fleur couldn't seem to recall Hermione ever coming along before…she was so stealthy. How admirable… Everything else but Hermione began to fade from view while Fleur almost swayed on the spot in the wind, feeling very much like a flower herself while her eyes went out of focus to get a better look at Hermione's dark, subdued ones…

Hermione…did the girl overhear everything? Fleur looked at her with a cold questioning gaze, and Hermione's hiccupping seemed to answer her question. She was blushing immensely, even in this cold. Fleur willed herself to stand strong against the wind, barely feeling her own hair blow about in the current. Perhaps she should have abided by her superstition, but at least Hermione knew that she was being idiotic with her thousand assumptions about the woman before her.

For reasons unknown, Fleur wasn't thrown at all by Hermione hearing her confessions. Not even the suicidal ones. She was beyond the point of caring about such trivial things, regardless of the subject; panicking about it would only make Hermione feel even worse.

"Fleur, I… I came… I came to talk…to you… I realise that after all these years, the only thing you've ever said to me is _I concede._ I…seem to have forgotten about that. So can we…can we start over…? I'm sorry for judging you and for…for talking about you behind your back and…everything. I'd like it if we could…be friends. And yes…I'm crying over what you were talking about… I'm so sorry… Friends…?"

Hermione held out a shaky hand in front of her. Or was it three…? Fleur wasn't sure. The Frenchwoman continued to stare into Hermione's eyes, unsure if she could extend her own crimson-soaked gloved hand. Hermione was saying something, but Fleur couldn't hear a thing. Her ears and nose nearly felt like they were bleeding, and the world kept tipping, seemingly determined to throw her off balance. Fleur was equally determined to not let the grass beneath her feet win…

The quarter Veela barely felt her hand move to shake Hermione's – she didn't mind being her friend. How Hermione would succeed in getting to know her, Fleur didn't know. And how Hermione's eyes seemed to keep her stable, Fleur didn't know either. But it was a double-edged sword; the softened fire in the Gryffindor's eyes kept reminding Fleur of her own weakness when she cried years ago.

Memories being forced into her mind, making her ill like vomit in her head made her cry. Now it was happening again, but the vomit was building in her throat now; a vile, acidic pain etched her throat but Fleur kept a straight face while Hermione finally took her hand. A cool sweat coated her forehead and an inexplicable force was pulling her to the side but Hermione wasn't moving at all. Impressive… Shivers were still ensnaring Fleur, nearly eating her whole with bliss while she stared into Hermione's eyes. _So powerful…even now…_

And the second Hermione looked down in horror upon finding that Fleur's gloved hand was soaked, all of Fleur's strength was sapped from her immediately. After years of enjoying the power in Hermione's eyes whenever they looked at each other, the rip of their gaze tipped Fleur over the edge while the ringing in her ears grew louder and louder and louder, cutting off Hermione's sobbing questions and screams. Fleur felt light-headed and liberated; she was weak enough to fall into Hermione's arms and then she slept peacefully for the first time in eleven years…

* * *

"Poppy, what did the toxicology report say?"

"Minerva, please don't be alarmed. Miss Delacour will be just fine."

"How did this happen…?"

"Poppy please tell us she'll wake soon."

"Will she be fine once she wakes?"

"Who's responsible for this!"

"Severus, _please—"_

"Don't _please_ me, Dumbledore. She's my best student!"

"You're not helping matters—"

"Granger! Granger, you're the one who brought her here! Tell us what happened! NOW!"

"Severus, lower your voice or I'll have to ask you to leave. The girl is sobbing – she's in no state to answer your interrogations."

"That's quite easy for you to say, Poppy. Your student isn't lying on her possible death bed!"

"Severus! Calm yourself! This isn't like you at all. Pomona, please see him to his quarters. Minerva, Headmaster - please come in my office. Miss Granger, we'll be back in a moment. Try to calm yourself."

Hermione was sitting right by Fleur's bed, holding on to her hand with both of her trembling, bloodstained ones. She refused to let Madam Pomfrey clean her up. She refused to tell them what happened. She refused to believe that Fleur might be bed-ridden for months because of something _she_ did to her…

Torrents of tears left her sore eyes, her throat and chest were constricted, and she'd been sobbing so hard that sweat was beading her nose and forehead. It was nearly one in the morning and she was wide awake with fear. Guilt. Wretched, wretched guilt and agony… She'd been crying so long that her abs ached and her throat was nearly bleeding – this was her just desserts…

Hermione felt utterly repulsed with herself while she willed her moist eyes to stay locked on to Fleur's closed ones. Even in slumber, she looked so strong and composed… Fleur would have probably retched for real if she saw Hermione in such a state.

The moonlight peeking in through the window above her head hid Fleur's face with such stark shadows while Hermione kept replaying that horrible memory in her head over and over again. It was all she could do in between praying that Fleur really would be alright…

Hermione was ever so thankful that she was breathing normally; whatever she couldn't vomit blocked her airway and she nearly choked before Hermione used the _Anapneo_ spell while she carried her all the way to the Hospital Wing. _Locomotor Mortis_ would have been sufficient, but Hermione felt so distraught that she needed to place the burden upon herself. It was foolish, but she didn't know what to think. Even now, her mind was still going off like mad and she just wanted it all to stop… Right when she'd gotten Fleur's friendship, _this_ went and happened. She startled Fleur and made her breathe in that poison and stab herself with the thorns on that flower she was trying to get rid of…

Fleur thought about suicide… She was miserable in her own ways… How could Hermione have made so many assumptions about her? Why didn't she even think to look past her cold eyes and get to know the real Fleur? When she conceded during that Duel all those years ago, _that_ was Hermione's sign that the girl was harmless! But no… No, she couldn't realise that. She'd even gone so far as to forget all about her chivalry…

Even now with Fleur's beauty still radiating so strongly in this dark room, despite her weak state, Hermione admired her beyond belief. It was impossible for anyone else to still look so assured and powerful in their own ways lying in a hospital bed…

But a peaceful allure entwined with her natural sex appeal was exuding from her, and Hermione once more felt that strong tug in Fleur's direction. The pain in her heart lessened slightly whilst she monitored Fleur's breathing, and her tears slowed down. Silent streams fell from her aching eyes now while she prayed to be able to see the blue of her…friend's eyes. Sooner rather than later…

Just as Hermione caressed Fleur's warm hand with her thumbs, Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall and Dumbledore emerged from the nurse's office. They walked carefully to the mourning Gryffindor and her friend, all three of their faces sombre and pained. Hermione felt a harsh tug downward on her heart from the sight out of the corner of her eye, but her darkened orbs never left Fleur's sculpted face. A sleeping Aphrodite, battling with something _she_ inflicted upon her…

Guilt…guilt… _guilt_ …

"Miss Granger," Pomfrey said softly. Hermione sniffled in response. "I've found out the nature of Miss Delacour's condition… We're aware that you found her among a field of flowers with magical poisons from the samples we took from her gloves. I need you to confirm a few things. Just nod yes and shake your head no. Can you do that?"

Hermione nodded with much difficulty, trying in vain to scream at Fleur with her eyes to wake up… Even after her battles against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, she'd never felt this powerless before. It was draining her and she didn't know what to do with herself. But even worse, if Fleur _didn't_ wake…

"Very well. Now…you're positive she inhaled the hallucinogen by accident?" Hermione nodded, choking back a sob… "The flower was white?" Another nod… "It was also accidental that she gripped the thorns?" Yet another nod… "Well… we've nothing to worry about. She will wake."

"Poppy," McGonagall said. "Please tell us the hallucinogens aren't really fatal…"

"No, no they're not. Miss Granger managed to get Miss Delacour up here in just enough time for me to cleanse her system as fully as I could. The thorns, however, contained mercury. The magical version of the flower, the datura meteloides, contains mercury in its thorns. She inhaled the hallucinogens as well, and she will suffer some hallucinations from time to time until she's recovered."

"And the mercury?" Dumbledore spoke gently. "She really has…?"

"Vertigo, yes…" Pomfrey said sombrely. Hermione choked yet another sob and McGonagall moved to put a hand over her shoulder. "But she can be treated fully in a few months' time. The vertigo causes nausea and the sensation of falling and dizziness at sudden movements… There's an imbalance in her ears, throwing off her natural balance. Walking will be hard, and even after she's treated she will need to undergo physical therapy. I suggest she not move much until then, but I'm worried about keeping her here—"

"I'll take care of her," Hermione choked out immediately.

"You are sure, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes… Yes, I'm positive, Headmaster… I… I feel so horrible…"

"It's not your fault, dear," McGonagall assured her. Hermione felt a heat rush to her cheeks but she stayed silent. "If anything, you're a hero for managing to find Miss Delacour…"

"But I am sure it would be a fine idea," Dumbledore reasoned, the twinkle in his eyes ever prominent. Hermione felt her stomach flip and clench with pure remorse. "We will have Miss Delacour carefully returned to her quarters. Miss Granger, would you mind assuming her title as Head Girl, at least until she has recovered?"

"That's…fine…"

"Very well then, it's settled. Poppy, do inform Miss Granger of the procedures to care for Miss Delacour and anything else you deem necessary. I have no qualms about either of them keeping up with school work once time allows. Either way, I will speak with the rest of your Professors on the matter in a few hours' time. Miss Granger, do let Madam Pomfrey clean you up. Professor McGonagall and I will have Miss Delacour in her quarters soon, and the Slytherin Common Room password will be issued to you by this evening. Do get some sleep. You've had a rough night."

* * *

Sleep was a word that was no longer in Hermione's vocabulary. Rest was something Hermione couldn't seem to come by while she lay in her four poster bed, surrounded by her roommates sleeping peacefully without a care. Her head trembled and her stomach quivered; the warm tears would _not_ stop… Madam Pomfrey supplied her with a list of symptoms, treatment procedures, signs to look out for… Hermione felt like she was betraying Fleur by not being in the Hospital Wing with her still, but Madam Pomfrey refused to let her stay.

Thoughts of Fleur plagued her, ripped at her, screamed at her conscience – her mind kept yelling GUILTY, _GUILTY,_ _ **GUILTY**_ over and over and over, ripping more tears from her bloodshot eyes. Hermione glanced at her palms, hands trembling; the sight of Fleur's blood there will forever be stained on her mind. The tips of her nails shone in the bit of moonlight peeking through her curtains, and she ran them and the rest of her hands through her hair while she turned on her side and curled into a ball; she barely even knew Fleur, but she felt insurmountable remorse over the whole ordeal…

Fleur wanted to be normal… by the sound of it, she was homesick. She was unsure of what she wanted, she was unsure of her future… She _was_ just a normal human being. Hermione did hurt Fleur in her own ways. Ignorance, stupidity, obsession, greed, envy – that was Hermione. She attacked Fleur all these years with her boundless hatred and jealousy. And the worst part was that she felt completely justified about it all… Not once until last night did she take a step back and think about what she was doing.

It wasn't fair… Fleur didn't deserve this fate. Even if she didn't recover, Hermione was determined to watch over her until she couldn't anymore. Fleur was probably just scared of people, in her own ways… Scared because, maybe, they'd just end up hurting her… And now look what happened… _LOOK,_ Hermione… Look at what you've done… Fleur has too much potential and ambition to waste her life away in a bed…

The only good thing that came out of this was that she had Fleur's friendship… she had a broader understanding of her, of life, of everything now. So much broader, brighter, and much more…depressing… But at least Fleur had a real friend now… Hermione was determined to show her that.

It wasn't until four in the morning that she drifted off to sleep, crying still, but hopeful to be the one to help Fleur in more ways than one from now on. She owed her so much more than she could give, but Hermione was still willing to try and do her best anyway…

* * *

Her eyes burned irritably from a horrible lack of sleep when she finally woke up a sad two hours later. Hermione rubbed her sore eyes and dragged herself out of bed to make some effort to at least wash up and change clothes. The thought of breakfast made the recollection of everything slap her in the face; she just wanted to go back to sleep…her roommates were still knocked out…

Hermione's throat prickled incessantly while she stood at the sink; she felt too weak with shame from the way she'd been behaving so childishly for so many years. Washing herself seemed like such a difficult task while she avoided looking directly at herself in the mirror. Every time she'd wipe her face, more tears came… She gave up on her face and finished with the rest of her hygiene.

How could she finish off the rest of the week of school? Even just this day seemed so daunting… She couldn't face anyone like this. People will wonder where Fleur is… No one knew the whole story, but she still felt horrible for keeping it a secret – Madam Pomfrey had merely assumed that Hermione was just conveniently in the area…

It was very tempting to just lock herself in the loo, but Hermione shook the thought; she'd have the password by tonight, and she'd make every effort to visit Fleur during breaks when she could, then for longer periods of time after classes let out for the day. She wasn't sure if she should risk going to the dungeons now to see if any of them would be so _generous_ as to let her in… No, that wouldn't ever happen…

She never thought she'd ever feel her world ripped from her feet. Not like this… It was _because_ she didn't know Fleur that the fall was so horrendous. But she'd make it up to her…somehow…

* * *

Hermione's day was spent trying her best to stay focused in class, avoiding meals, and speaking to all of Fleur's Professors to make sure they knew their student would be in her care. Luckily, she and Fleur shared all of the same classes, if not all scheduled during the same period. Keeping her caught up with class shouldn't be an issue, then…

Fleur's absence was noticed by the entire student body. The Slytherins all looked particularly disgruntled when Hermione walked in the Great Hall for some kind of dinner, her stomach empty and head aching, but she was really only looking forward to someone delivering the password she needed to enter Fleur's quarters. Whispers of speculation nearly spun Hermione out of control and into another fit of sobbing all day, and these weren't any better. Sitting at the Gryffindor table across from Harry and Ron was difficult; she wasn't sure how to explain to them what happened… or _if_ she ought to, anyway.

Picking at her food and eating bits at a time was all she could do. She tried to let her mind wander to mentally review the day's lessons, but that only kept her preoccupied for so long. Harry and Ron clearly noticed that she was off but said nothing. There was nothing they _could_ do…

McGonagall walked over to her some moments later and handed her a folded piece of parchment before making her way to the grand table. Hermione didn't even have time to thank her before she was off, but she quickly unfolded the parchment and felt a small smile on her lips as she read.

_Miss Granger,_

_No one but those who were in the Hospital Wing are aware of Miss Delacour's condition. If you are questioned upon entrance into the Slytherin Common Room, simply ignore them. The password is currently 'Serpensortia', and the door to Miss Delacour's room is enchanted to open with your hand, so you needn't worry about locks. Rest assured that she will wake soon, late tonight at the very latest._

_Included is her Head Girl badge; I apologise for not having any Gryffindor-issued badges, but Headmaster Dumbledore believes you shan't mind. Once again, ignore questions about your title. If you must tell anyone about this, keep it to a stark minimum. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the most._

_The notebook Madam Pomfrey prepared for you is also in Miss Delacour's room. Please use it to keep track of her progress, and to jot down anything else you deem necessary. Your services are greatly appreciated._

_Professor McGonagall_

Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief before clasping the badge and note to her chest for a moment. She bit her lip, wary of Harry and Ron's questioning gazes burning holes in her skin while she pocketed the note and her Prefect badge. They nearly squeaked in protest when she pinned the Head Girl badge on her chest, but she gave them a look that spoke enough – _we'll discuss this later_ – before she finally finished the rest of her meal with a little more ease.

Still, she knew this wasn't to be taken lightly. Her spirits were lifted slightly from the good news that Fleur ought to wake tonight, but she felt slightly out of place now, taking her position. Especially when she looked down upon Fleur for earning it, instead of her…

The world really has turned upside-down at this point, but Hermione was very much determined to fix everything.

 


	4. thank you for the venom

_so give me all your poison.._

_and give me all your pills.._

_and give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill…_

_you're runnin' after somethin' that you'll never kill.._

_if this is what you want, then…_

_fire at will.._

_~Thank You for the Venom by My Chemical Romance_

_**iv.** _ _thank you for the venom_

_Arctic, curious, studious eyes observed, worried, prayed – the blonde fringes over her eyes masked the concern in her eyes with her usual cold indifference. Her face was sore from scowling so much. Torrents of unknown emotions flew past her eyes while she stared into the dark empty vessels just underneath her._

_Fleur stood at Hermione's bedside in the empty room; it was well past midnight, but the blonde couldn't sleep. An incessant worry nagged at her, and she grew tired of fighting it. Hermione wasn't_ supposed _to be petrified…_

_The look Fleur was giving her was one filled of a silent, indifferent wonder. It wasn't until she held Hermione's cold hand in both of her own that she relaxed her face and eyes. Fleur sapped the coldness from Hermione's skin, shooting shivers through her hands and arms. The current flowing through the Slytherin, that of Hermione; it felt foreboding. But Fleur kept holding Hermione's hand anyway._ _Only the sound of Fleur's breathing reverberated throughout the chilly room, and her eyes upon Hermione were colder still._

_More shivers attacked her while she observed Hermione's eyes more closely. Another premonition came upon her; she was too close to Hermione. How would the girl react if she suddenly became normal again and found Fleur holding her hand? Fleur's eyes narrowed while she immediately envisioned a wrath of fury from Hermione. The girl was so presumptuous..._

_A very long time passed between them that night in complete silence. Fleur continued to observe, Hermione continued to be observed, and not once were they disturbed. Both of their minds were blank slates, neither had control over themselves. Thumbs just underneath ridiculously long manicured nails continued to caress, familiarise, and ponder on their own. Information was not being sent to Fleur's mind; she only continued to stare, stare, and stare some more at Hermione's literal statuesque figure._

_Silence burned Fleur's ears, laser-like. The empty, still fear in Hermione's eyes kept her from registering the ache in her limbs from standing for so long. Fleur kept studying Hermione; studying her almost as if she were a picture of something she couldn't and wouldn't ever want to look away from for a very long time. Strings were tugging the Veela's heart and mind around, jostling her thoughts and only letting them linger on Hermione. Hermione, the fascinating creature… An enigma. A specimen. An experiment._

_A curiosity._

_Fleur dipped her head down and snaked her back along with it while she inched closer to Hermione's visage. A vestige of Hermione's fury, confusing behaviours, her mannerisms; they lingered in her eyes and pulled Fleur closer still. The silence in both of their ears turned into a subtle melody, for Fleur at least, and it continued to evolve into a mysterious hymn, growing louder and fonder the closer Fleur became to Hermione's face._

_A taut line of aloof inquisitiveness reeled Fleur in more and more, even drawing the French girl's nose up into a decisive, but ever so subtle and gentle sneer. The nails along Hermione's hand dug into her stone skin bit by bit, little by little the closer and closer Fleur went…_

_A pause. A beat; Fleur stopped. Their eyes, noses, and lips were perfectly aligned. Fleur's body was curled about to achieve the perfect dimensions, the perfect, curious view of Hermione unaware and helpless underneath the moonlight and the blizzard of Fleur's gaze. The sculpted, mature features of Fleur's face contrasted starkly with the young, developing ones of Hermione's. Warm breaths bounced back on Fleur's face, tickling her skin, only pulling her concentration on Hermione's eyes tighter and harder around her mind._

_Fleur kept her small sneer and licked her lips, her warm, soft tongue just centimetres away from licking Hermione's as she did. Every detail of Hermione's eyes was in clear view. Swirls, tics, pigments, colour blending, lighting, emotion…but not truth. Fleur memorised what she could and could not see there in her dark eyes. An unknown smirk came upon Fleur's visage; a smirk of defiance, of power, of confusion… One or all three; it was, again, unknown. But, like all things visible and clear, it was there. It was there, possibly mocking or taunting either one of them._

_And it wasn't until Fleur curled herself a little more to move this smirk right in the centre of Hermione's eyes did it change. A metamorphosis of something innate, something difficult to pinpoint happened. The smirk was gone, but Fleur's lips were still full, smooth,_ there… _And Fleur's face and lips became unreadable; passive as she placed her soft, heart-shaped wonders over both of Hermione's eyes._

_But the curiosity was finally captured, and it lingered upon her lips while she kept them over Hermione's eye. An incision nearly occurred while Fleur willed her second heart to stay upon the fire, the lava, the burning sensation… It was not cold like the rest of Hermione's body. It was…_ her. _It was unexpected._

_And the action of moving down from Hermione's eyes to her cheeks, not nearly as cold now, was autonomous. A swift plant of a red kiss from the French flower went here, and the lips glossed to the other side of Hermione's face, just between her nose and lips, leaving an imaginary, red line of uncharted expanses, emotions, motives… It was warm, curious,_ different _Hermione's face was. And another kiss on the other cheek happened; slowly, deliberately. A sense of naturalness enveloped the Veela's lips as she pressed them into the warm mounds; a haze darkened her eyes while she retracted her face just a little._

_Curling her neck about to move her lips down diagonally was immediate. Immaculate lips of red probed further down the Gryffindor's face, closer to the curls of a mouth that was not scowling for once. Heart-shaped lips upon the younger girl's face nearly burned the petrified state away… Or was it the Mandrake antidotes finally working?_

_Whichever it was…lips continued to move closer and closer still to an automatic, unknown destination. There was seemingly no friction between the full lips and the ever warming young, smooth, colouring flesh underneath. Ice skating with warmth underneath and a blizzard of natural sex wonderments overhead; that is what happened._

_But the skating simply brushed over the lips of the youth; there was no perfect spin or dipping upon the enigmas of Hermione's lips. A pulse was starting underneath the French girl's thumbs; a pulse and rapidly increasing warmth was accumulating faster still in between their lips. A flash cut across the Slytherin's eyes before she carefully retracted her body in a svelte manner away from Hermione's. As she did, Hermione's body started to relax more and more while Fleur watched with a silent, cold indifference. It wasn't until she finally righted herself and straightened up did she see that familiar ember spark in Hermione's eyes…_

_And in that second, Fleur regained her usual posture of her head held high and her fringes covering most of her eye before she whipped her blonde locks about while she turned on her high heel and made her way out. Fleur walked with assured jerks of her shoulders, her hips, her thighs; she threw her heels out right in front of the other while she walked with her natural confidence; her grace._

_A haze simmered inside of her, and she merely exuded it all out while she walked out, still feeling Hermione's eyes on her; eyes that she had the pleasure of learning, of memorising, of feeling. A primal need for such knowledge overtook her, perhaps. The reasons for her actions were about as clear and bright as Hermione's eyes that had captured the Slytherin's attentions… To taste her only perfection, to further memorise the source of the Veela's captivation, to be effeminate; it was, like all things Fleur, very much unknown…_

* * *

The stinging sound of silence; the horrible awareness of silence enveloped Fleur's mind, and her eyelids felt a little less heavy. She felt a little less blissful and pain-free, but now the silence was spinning and threading a pain in between her ears. The quilt it slowly made for her helped to blanket the pain, like the duvet over her body from the waist down, but failing to blanket her from the cold on her face and chest. The familiar hug of her cream, buttoned nightshirt around her body calmed her. But awareness nearly stabbed her while she tried to read her senses with eyes closed; it _felt_ like her room… But something was off.

A warmth was around her hand. Two warmths. Five slender digits on each and a trembling thumb traversing circles on her warming skin gave Fleur the sensation that her entire body felt the strange circle sensations. Her dream-like state was leaving her but she still felt like she was falling, possibly slipping into some expanse… Her body jerked about automatically as if her feet really betrayed her and she lost her grace and slipped; the sudden movement shot arrows in her head but the warmths over her hand kept her in reality.

The hands kept her from falling, but they made her want to fall again anyway, just to get away…

Fleur opened her eyes slowly, taking in her surroundings as one blur of stone, posters, lists, a person… She was aware that she was awake but had difficulty registering anything at all except for what she could feel. The familiar feeling of her pillow on the back of her head kept her stable while her eyes involuntarily curled a path to the one sitting at her bedside with an unreadable expression upon her wet, glistening face.

Only one candle was lit on the opposite side of her, and Fleur watched the ember flicker in her eyes to make up for what she could no longer feel from the usual intensity the girl's eyes gave her. Fleur tilted her head to the side ever so slightly in a masked curiosity; Hermione was only wearing her white shirt, skirt, and her tie was actually tied loosely around her neck. Interesting…

Watching the manufactured warmth and feeling the real one over her hand helped to melt more feeling into her body. The circles stopped just as the girl's thumb did. Fleur's face felt stony, aloof…almost _petrified_ from a lack of compassion and warmth. She watched an inexplicable something swirl in the girl's eyes; it reeked of guilt and shame and vulnerability.

Fleur scowled at her.

* * *

Hermione continued to sit and stare at Fleur, already wondering if her weakness was what brought that powerful scowl upon her regal visage. Her weakness was what got Fleur into this mess to begin with… But try as she might, the tears wouldn't stop.

Her first attempt at entering the Slytherin Common Room was simply disastrous – everyone barricaded the door and refused her entry, yelling completely true accusations at the top of their lungs that Hermione had something to do with Fleur's illness…

Well… _some_ were truer than others…

" _Fucking Mudblood! You did this to her, didn't you?"_

" _All part of your damn scheme to get her bloody title, eh! Be gone with you, filth!"_

" _So what if Fleur's better than you? ACCEPT IT and move on! Don't give us that rubbish about you_ tending _to her! What a load of shit!"_

" _Fuck you, Granger!"_

" _You see this middle finger? Take your own and shove it up your pathetic arse, Mudblood! If you even know how, that is!"_

" _You jealous tramp! How dare you show your face here after what you did! It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're responsible for this mess!"_

" _You'll never be better than her! Get over yourself, Granger!"_

" _Don't you DARE taint this dungeon! Don't even think about it! Fleur hates you, alright! SCRAM!"_

…and this was how Hermione found herself in her own Common Room, a crying mess while she sat with Harry and Ron. She explained the entire situation to them and they understood completely. Ron looked a little off for reasons unbeknownst to Hermione, but she soon forgot all about him. Harry immediately offered Hermione his Invisibility Cloak, and she nearly kissed him when he gave it to her.

As soon as she thanked him, she left and went straight to the kitchens to regrettably ask the House Elves for extra food. Fleur was bound to be hungry when she woke up, though Hermione herself couldn't stomach anything; the onslaught she received was still fresh in her mind.

Sneaking in the Common Room with the Cloak on was simple, as was getting in Fleur's chambers unnoticed. The hard part was actually figuring out what to do with herself once she was inside.

Hermione remembered marvelling at how spick and span Fleur's room is. A feeling of power swam throughout the ambiance, and Hermione remembered all too well being drawn to how homey Fleur's room felt, despite the power within. While she waited for Fleur to wake, she managed to finish her homework, though her eyes wandered to Fleur's form on the bed multiple times.

It wasn't until she finished with her work and pulled up a chair to Fleur's bed to monitor her more closely did she start to feel the ache once more. Questions ran through her mind, running triathlons but still finding no answers. The sweat of their toils ran down her face with excruciating stubbornness; holding Fleur's hand was all she could do to keep her heart from screaming the answers to her questions that she did not want to hear or say or even think about yet…

But now that Fleur was awake and looking at her with such an expression…she couldn't ignore anything anymore. The power she felt from Fleur's room alone could not compare to the sheer command Fleur held now. And again, being in a bed and unable to move this way or that without pain and dizziness didn't seem to faze her. Nothing ever did. Nothing ever could.

Fleur was the embodiment, to Hermione, of something that she could never touch, never be, never quite understand. But her mind and heart was screaming from the very depths of her that she wanted this knowledge. Hermione needed something…she wasn't sure what it was she needed, but she felt secure even if Fleur was staring her down while Hermione was technically the one above her.

Also, technically, they were _friends…_ So, they needed to start somewhere. Staring and crying wasn't getting her anywhere. Hermione sniffled one last time and calmed her silent tears, at least for the moment, before she searched her throat and heart for the right tone of voice, a soft but certain tone, to hand to Fleur, to show her…something.

That something…that inexplicable _something_ kept tugging at her vocal chords, but she swallowed and endured the sting before willing herself to speak…

"It's nice to see you awake again… I'm sure you're wondering what happened…" Hermione licked her lips expectantly, noticing a strange flash behind Fleur's eyes as she did so. But Fleur said nothing. Hermione chewed her tongue a bit before deciding to go with just a soft tone with which to speak with… "I'm so sorry… This is all my fault… I… Well… You see—"

"Out with it."

"S-sorry…" Hermione flushed considerably and nearly kicked herself to not flinch at the spite in Fleur's commandeering and still rather hushed tone of voice. Still, the softness in her own tone prevailed while she tried as she spoke to find the right words, no matter how impossible it seemed. "Well… I assume you remember that I found you behind one of the greenhouses…?"

"Vertigo. I have it. I know."

"What…? How?"

Again, Fleur chose not to respond. Hermione winced; Fleur must have known what the dangers of the flowers were if she was trying to get rid of them… Fleur seemed to see the understanding swim through Hermione's eyes and merely continued to stare, to observe. Hermione blinked stupidly for a moment, completely thrown by the intensity in Fleur's eyes, despite how surreptitiously warm they might have been under the surface.

But…now was not the time for that. Later…

"Well, Fleur… I suppose you can guess that I volunteered to, ah… _care_ for you… I-it's the least I can do… After all, I hope that we're still…still friends. I'm so…terribly, _terribly_ sorry…"

"You amuse me." Fleur's tone was ebbing with a cryptic edge but Hermione tried to let it go over her head.

"What do you mean…?"

"You've never said a word to me in seven years. Look at you now. You're—"

"Pathetic… I know."

Hermione hung her head slightly, though unable to tear her eyes from Fleur's. The frozen gaze turned into a mock amusement, the trademark Slytherin sneer upon her face… Hermione bit her lip and chewed the thin layer of skin while she watched the shadows on Fleur's face flicker with the candlelight. Her eyes were too dark with something, a mysterious kind of something to see the fire in her eyes at all…

"Actually, no," Fleur mused, raising her right eyebrow as she spoke. Hermione widened her eyes momentarily, managing to catch a small bit of playfulness, however small or illusory it may have been.

"Then what am I to you…?"

"You are…" Fleur thought for a moment, still studying Hermione's eyes. Slowly. Ambitiously… "You are… ignorant. I have other words… But I'd rather save them for later."

"Later as in when…? Does this mean we can still be friends?"

"Friends, enemies, rivals – whatever. I don't care, really. Your motives are shady."

"I… I know… I mean… I've just been so…so… _frustrated…_ all these years."

"All…these years… Years… All of these years without me…"

"What…?"

Hermione blanched; Fleur's eyes slowly went out of focus, but her gaze never left hers. Hermione finally remembered the feeling in her hands and held on to Fleur's tenderly, patiently… She wasn't expecting this so soon. Madam Pomfrey did warn Hermione that a hallucination might occur when Fleur's memory is jogged in some way, but it would pass. No matter what, Hermione simply had to keep talking to her.

She just had to _be there_ for her…

"Gabrielle… You've grown…so much. I've missed you…" Fleur's voice was hollow and yet still so mellow. Hermione swallowed the prickles in her throat and tried to smile while she nodded.

"I've missed you too…"

"I knew you weren't gone… I've had hope all these years. Hope…it overcomes everything. It always prevails…"

"You're right…"

"Of course… of course. You're my little sister; you'll believe anything I say… well… you're not so little anymore. How old would you be now…? Thirteen…"

"Yes… I… _would_ be…" Hermione felt a strange sting in her eyes from Fleur's choice of words…

"Mmm… That's wonderful, Gabby… I hope you're not angry with me. I did what I could but I just wasn't…brave enough. I never did tell you that I'm sorry…"

"There's no need to apologise, Fleur… You…you did what you could, just like you said. I'm not angry…"

"You're too nice…" Fleur sighed contentedly and gripped one of Hermione's hands a little while she smiled sadly. Hermione fought a torrent of emotions within; mainly confusion and guilt rip more tears from her eyes… "I'm angry, though… at…myself… Maybe… I don't know."

"Why…?"

"Gabrielle, don't you see…? You… you're crying… No, no… Don't cry… See…? That's why… I don't…know… I don't… Come here… Come here… Let me hold you again… It's been…too long…"

Fleur smiled once more while she let go of Hermione's hands to move the duvet. Hermione didn't risk hesitating before she crawled underneath the emerald warmth and let her head be guided to the crook of Fleur's neck. Surprisingly warm arms enveloped her sobbing form while she sunk in the incredibly comfortable mattress with her; shivers attacked her while Fleur replaced the duvet over the both of them, singing French lullabies while they familiarised themselves with the others' body so close to their own…

Hermione shut her eyes, the ritual of crying now all too familiar now. Fleur's nails gently scratched random patterns on her trembling back underneath her white blouse, her voice surprisingly soothing and water-smooth. Their legs were entwined, both smooth to the touch to the other… Hermione felt herself nearly clinging to Fleur to keep herself from falling into an abyss. An abyss of reality that Fleur was _really_ holding her sister, and not her… An abyss that Fleur probably didn't care for Hermione at all… But she kept holding her.

The feeling of Fleur's hair just over the pillow upon her tear-stained face was surprisingly…homey. Just like Fleur's room; an expected feeling of desolateness came with Fleur, but she was so gentle. She was subdued again, warm to the touch and warm with her soft, wondrous singing drifting through Hermione's ears.

The sweetest sadness in Fleur's voice helped Hermione to drift off to sleep, feeling somewhat more subdued herself that Fleur didn't _seem_ to hate her… Fear that Fleur would be angry and start thrashing around upon waking and finding Hermione in her arms didn't even cross her mind.


	5. apocalypse please

_declare this an emergency.._

_come on and spread a sense of urgency…_

_and pull us through.._

_and pull us through.._

_and pull us through…_

_this is the end of the world.._

_~Apocalypse Please by Muse_

_**v.** _ _apocalypse please_

" _The Imperius Curse," Moody said darkly, "is but one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Use it 'n you'll be sent straight to Azkaban Prison. Now, the Ministry don't want me showin' you how these Curses work…but you need to be informed. You need to be ready. You need to be aware… Constant vigilance!_

" _Now… I'd like to have a volunteer for my little jar of tricks here… but who'd like to step forward? Eh? Come on! A little challenge – let's see who of all'ye are any good at throwin' off the Curse! An' from me, no less!"_

_The entire Fourth Year Defence Against the Dark Arts class of Gryffindors and Slytherins remained silent. The class held a foreboding feeling about itself; the Professor in question having quite a lot to do with the source of the sombre mood. Only one window was open; the rest were closed and nearly stifling everyone in the classroom. All except for three people in the room looked absolutely mortified at the prospect of Professor Moody performing the Curse on them. Two of the three were smirking slightly while they tried in vain to get their third to join in on their entertainment. Hermione and Neville in particular appeared to be the most appalled of the lot._

_Draco and Pansy were elbowing their Veela friend encouragingly, but she merely continued to flick her quill back and forth between her fingers, hitting the end and tip against the desk successively. The sound of her bored fidgeting was the only sound in the room other than bated breath and occasional swallows from the other frightened students. Her perfect posture endured despite her obvious boredom with the class – the glaze and passive expression upon her face gave her away, however. The bit of sunlight shining through the window in the back already made her blonde locks stand out, and Moody was eyeing her carefully, knowingly…_

" _Ah, come on Fleur," Draco murmured to his friend. Fleur ignored him. "I know you've got it in you. None of these cowards in here could fight it. I know you can."_

" _Yeah Fleur," Pansy chimed in, a devious smirk upon her face. Fleur ignored her, too. "Come on… Show up those blood traitor idiots in here."_

" _Delacour," Moody piped up, "why don't you come and help me demonstrate a few things… I've heard of your…_ talents _…"_

_All eyes that already weren't on Fleur, which was just a typically scarce two belonging to Hermione Granger, immediately darted to her with a scowl to go with it. Draco and Pansy smirked triumphantly and egged their best friend on a tad more before the quarter Veela sighed and graciously stood from her desk. Endless legs of sweet seventeen underneath a stylish skirt strutted down the aisle, trademark designer heels clicking upon the hardwood, only further entrancing everyone in the room whether they liked it or not. Even Professor Moody, the pervert; his electric eye had the nerve to lose control for a split second before he took a swig of his elusive flask…_

_And everyone continued to watch while Fleur's robes billowed at her heeled feet while she retrieved her wand from her pocket, typical confidence exuding from her as always not only in her automatic strut, but in the unconcern upon her face. The sunlight even followed her right to the fore of the class where she finally stood just at Moody's desk before he kindly gestured for her to face the class. She suppressed an eye twitch and did as she was told, folding her arms over her chest with her wand tapping her forearm, one knee bent, and staring above everyone's faces. Hermione managed to stop scowling for some reason, however._

" _Wonderful, you've already got your wand out. Let me ask you a few questions about that wand of yours, if you don't mind…" Fleur pursed her lips momentarily and shrugged while Moody began to hobble slowly down the aisles of desks, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. "Would you mind explainin' to us what your wand characteristics are?"_

" _Rosewood. Nine and a half inches," Fleur replied evenly._

" _And the core…?"_

" _Veela hair core."_

" _Veela, really?" Moody asked with interest while the rest of the class minus the usual suspects murmured excitedly. Fleur clenched her jaw and said nothing. "Where'd you manage to get that core? Last I checked, Ollivander don't make wands with Veela hair cores."_

" _He_ doesn't."

" _Then might I ask how you obtained such a wand?"_

" _You can. That doesn't mean I'll answer you."_

_Moody turned to face Fleur, a rather friendly scowl upon his tattered face. Fleur matched his gaze with a warning one of her own; she knew what he was trying to do. Draco was scowling at the old man and Hermione was looking at Fleur questioningly. The question behind her eyes was curious and scathing as ever, but Fleur paid her no mind. The presence of anyone else in the room was lost on Fleur while she kept eye contact with the haggard ex-Auror. But Fleur knew whatever look she gave him would only amuse him further. It was a game with no loopholes; no chances for victory. Both of them knew this. Moody licked his lips thoughtfully before speaking once more._

" _You're part Veela, aren't you?"_

" _One quarter only."_

" _But still enough to know how to truly_ use _your powers…am I right?"_

" _You are."_

" _So it'd be of no surprise whatsoever if you passed my tests this afternoon, right?"_

" _I don't know," Fleur replied with a curt raise of her eyebrows, mouth still set. Moody smirked darkly at this. "Why don't you just try,_ Moody?"

_Moody huffed before chuckling a bit and hobbling back to her side. Fleur was actually taller than the old ex-Auror, and many Slytherins chuckled at this._

" _But I know you, Delacour," Moody growled, "you don't like to have your…_ power _…ripped away. You like to have power at all costs. No matter what. Even if you don't think you do, I'm sure the desire's there… Let me show you –_ Imperio!"

_Nothing happened. Fleur only continued to stand there, glaring at Professor Moody. It was simply as if he had blown air from his mouth that clearly had no effect on the control Fleur had over her mind. The students gasped, completely shocked; they were clearly expecting more of a fight on Fleur's half. Moody grimaced, his electric blue eye going haywire for a moment before she shook his head momentarily and coughed. He was clearly thrown and was also expecting more of a fight on her half. But Fleur genuinely looked as if nothing had happened. Her calmness, forced or not, continued to breeze from her while she watched him; she watched his every move, wary of what he had in mind for her next._

_But Moody merely bowed his head slightly before stepping forward a bit and handing his wand to Fleur. Fleur took it and pocketed her own before Moody hobbled a distance away from her, then turned to face her once more. The class was simply enraptured by mental questions that would soon be answered._

_Hermione actually looked the most fearful of the lot._

" _Go on, Delacour… Go on… Curse me. Use something… I see that glint in your eyes. I see it… Oh, what…? Am I making you angry? Are you going to cry…? Cry like a little girl? Eh? EH?—"_

_Moody's derision was cut off by Fleur brandishing his own wand at him and using the Cruciatus Curse without saying a word. The haggard man actually succumbed to her and yelled and hollered in gruff pain, slowly falling to his knees to bow down to the commanding woman before him. Fleur had power, she had control – this man was not going to rip it away from her, especially not in front of everyone else…_

_Fleur wanted him to feel pain; she wanted to shut him up. She didn't care if the class was in absolute horror. For all she knew, they were dead. Dead… Dead….. Screams that didn't belong to Moody rang in her mind, and she shut her eyes for a moment before stopping the Curse. The screaming wouldn't stop, even if Moody's did…_

_She lost it. She really did lose control… And now she was paying for it for the second year in a row. It was the first time in her life that she felt uncomfortable with so many eyes upon her. She held Moody's wand with a vice-like grip and her arm visibly trembled before she slammed the wood on the desk loud enough to startle everyone else in the room. Moody still lay on the ground, a heap of pain and ironic laughter…_

_The screams, the loss of control, Moody…they all sent a furious edge to Fleur's features before she immediately stormed out, wary of the possible transformation. She reprimanded herself heavily as she went, still completely aware of everyone's eyes on her, but still not caring. They were unimportant. Nothing mattered except for getting away from this man and what she knew he was. He brought back too many painful memories, too many sleepless nights and crying days in that Malfoy Manor whilst the idiots concocted their plans so freely in front of her._

_Everyone watched her leave, transfixed by the angry click of her heels, at Fleur's clear loss of control, and how the hell Moody knew what to say to push her buttons._

_Fleur never returned to Defence Against the Dark Arts that year._

* * *

Friday afternoon was upon Hogwarts, but not upon Hermione. She was finally eighteen – an adult. But she'd completely forgotten about her birthday. There was just something so unimportant about her age, her supposed growth and maturity. There'd been something far more pressing nagging at her ever since earlier that week.

She was sitting in History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, Ron and Harry at either side of her, thinking. Just thinking.

Thinking, and quite unable to blink at all…

_When Hermione awoke the next morning after falling asleep in Fleur's arms, she had to keep from squeaking at her mistake – Fleur was bound to be furious and confused. Hermione slowly moved her head to look at Fleur directly, and she nearly felt her face freeze off from the power in the Slytherin's gaze… But it was not one of fury or confusion or even coldness._

_Hermione actually had the pleasure of being under the gaze of a passive Fleur; one that didn't look at all perturbed by another, a girl in fact, being in her arms. Fleur actually seemed to look as if she was used to such things. Hermione wondered in horror if she was just hallucinating again, but Fleur's eyes were in focus. She wasn't smiling contentedly or anything. She looked…well,_ normal _for other people. But not normal for Fleur… This concerned her._

" _Ah, Fleur… I'm…I'm sorry… Well… I didn't mean to fall asleep, it just…happened…and…well… um…"_

_Fleur licked her lips and inched herself as slowly as possible so that her face was as close to Hermione's as she could get it. Hermione fought back a blush, albeit difficultly, and tried to keep her face where it was so as to not show Fleur that she was afraid. But this was quite the lie – Hermione was terrified. Fleur was her strong patient who was quite unable to move about on her own thanks to the one in her arms, and now she was inching closer and closer with such an unorthodox expression…_

_Hermione held her breath once Fleur achieved the perfect, tiny distance between their noses, eyes, forehead, lips… She saw that Fleur's lips were parted, and a very small smirk was upon her features while Hermione took in the allure of her heritage, and her warm, odourless breath that somehow smelled so sweet… Hermione was unsure of herself; unsure of what was going on, why Fleur was doing this, and what her feelings were trying to tell her._

_She watched the darkness float across Fleur's eyes, she watched her pupils widen, she tried to learn the hue those eyes of blue gave to her. Colour, closeness, visual texture, and…confusion – this is what her eyes were giving. This is what_ Fleur _was giving to_ Hermione…

_But wasn't that…not normal?_

" _You're a strange one."_

_Fleur spoke audibly, softly; there was levelness to her tone but Hermione may have been fooling herself into trying to pick out more than what was really there. She was so busy trying to do that, that it took a little longer than usual for her to formulate her well-crafted response._

" _What do you mean…?" Hermione was baffled; only Fleur could come up with the most unexpected reactions to anything she did._

" _Your eyes give yourself away."_

" _I s-still don't understand?"_

" _Ohh…you don't_ understand… _What is it that you don't understand?"_

" _I don't understand what you're implying about me." Hermione frowned slightly, somehow finding insult to Fleur's emphasis… Fleur smirked a little more and Hermione's frown lessened. Slightly…_

" _Your eyes show so much. What else is there to say, hidden or not?"_

" _I… I don't know, Fleur… You're acting rather strange, is all… You never smirked with me before and I didn't realise you were so comfortable being close to…me…"_

" _No one has ever been comfortable being this close to you, hm?"_

" _Well…no…"_

" _Prude."_

" _I beg your pardon?"_

" _What? I only called you a prude. You ask too many unnecessary questions. Why don't you figure out what you_ really _want to ask me and get back to me later? You've class."_

" _Yes…yes, all right… I'll think about it…"_

" _You already know what it is. I can see it in your eyes. Don't underestimate me…"_

Hermione licked her lips instinctively while she quietly caught her breath; she'd been holding it in all this time… She looked down to her parchment and saw that she'd written _Don't underestimate her_ and _Past_ over and over and over across random places. She hardly noticed Ron and Harry's fearful eyes upon her, watching her, trying to figure out the source of the hollowness in her normally attentive eyes.

Something was simmering inside of her. A broil of curiosity about Fleur – a curiosity that she'd never harboured for anyone or anything began to scratch away at her. It was ever so delicate, the scratching; like the patterns Fleur traced upon her back. Like the grasp she had on what Fleur was doing, why she herself was so confused and curious, and why in the world Harry was poking her incessantly—

"Hermione, class is over…"

"What?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks when Hermione merely continued to stare out into the beyond. She was unreadable, unmovable, unbelievable – Hermione was still scribbling absently even while not looking at the parchment. She kept writing, writing some words over others obviously without knowing. She knew what her heart was telling her to do but she wasn't sure she understood completely. Ron in particular looked slightly scared at what he and Harry were reading, both of them quite aware of what this was all about.

_Fear. Unknown. She needs my help. Something happened to her. I need to find out what. She needs me._

"Hermione," Harry tried again. Hermione set her quill down and turned to face him, looking as if she were surprised to see him. Harry tried to ignore this and kept his voice steady, his emerald eyes edged with a knowing curve. "Let's go. We need to talk."

"Sure, Harry."

Ron looked around warily while the three of them finally made their way out of the classroom. Harry wore a subtly bedazzled expression upon his face while he watched his two best friends carefully. Hermione… Hermione was looking rather passive. Passive to mask her relapse, perhaps…

Hermione felt almost as if she were floating along the desolate halls, not at all phased when Malfoy and friends, sans Fleur, rounded the corner and tried to assault her with their words. When the Gryffindor merely continued on her way to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry and Ron in tow, the Slytherins looked extremely dishevelled by her lack of care for what they had to say. Pansy in particular had a mild glint in her coal eyes while she and her friends watched them go. She and Malfoy exchanged looks that said enough, and they all followed after them without a word.

The Trio picked a rather secluded spot at the Gryffindor table to sit and have their meals. Harry and Ron sat across from Hermione who was eating just fine, but hardly seemed aware that she was doing anything other than sitting down. She was pondering about her patient, already adapting a speed to her eating so as to not keep Fleur waiting for too long. Fleur was not the sort to be cranky or bratty about things, but Hermione just wanted to be sure.

Ron looked overhead and noticed a thunderstorm brewing above the floating candles on the Enchanted ceiling. He swallowed and looked back down to his confidant, blushing considerably when Hermione made eye contact with him, but she seemed to be looking past him. Harry put his fork down and cleared his throat, shedding the awkwardness of the situation and before Ron could turn any more crimson than he already was.

"Hermione," Harry said sternly. Hermione shifted her gaze to him, finally coming back to Earth for him. Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair and cleared his throat once more for emphasis. "Look… Ron and I've noticed that you seem really off today. Is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

"Have I really?" Hermione looked as if the notion had never occurred to her.

"Yes…"

"Oh." Hermione considered this and chewed her food thoughtfully for a moment. "Well I suppose you're right. I've just had a lot of my mind, that's all."

"Does this have anything to do with Fleur?"

"Fleur… Well… Yes. Yes, it has everything to do with Fleur. I was completely wrong about her…all these…years."

"You mean you've finally figured out that she isn't shady or anything of the sort?"

"Yes… Yes and no. She's not the horrible person I thought she was after all… It feels… _different_ to see her in a different light after being ignorant to it for so long. And…well… I don't know, Harry. I like it."

"You like it so much to the point where you zone out in class? That's not like you."

"Harry, you know as well as I do that Binns lectures about the same thing over and over on Fridays."

"Okay, and what about yesterday during Potions? You kept looking around and almost ruined your cauldron."

"What's with the third degree?"

"Hermione…" Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, trying to stay calm. "You've not been yourself ever since Wednesday. Here it is, Friday, and you're being dodgy. It's your birthday too and you haven't even brought that up. Is there something you're not telling us?"

"No, Harry. No. Why would you think I'm not telling you something?"

"I… I don't know, Hermione. You're just…acting really strange… Ron and I are worried about you."

"That's really sweet of you but I'm fine. I promise. Besides, it _is_ my birthday. I'm allowed a little leverage with myself, don't you think? Now, I'm going to check on Fleur. I'll see you two later."

Hermione smiled at her friends before slinging her bag over her shoulder and scampering out of the Great Hall to visit her newest friend. She was humming that same tune to herself, a smile adorning her face. Not even the Slytherins looking at her questioningly as she passed their line of sight bothered her. She felt like she was floating again, quite unsure as to why, but she felt fine. Nothing could possibly deter her. It was a strange, out of place feeling. But there was nothing she could do to fight it, nor did she want to. It was starting to become as natural as walking; and that she continued to do while she remembered to pick up some more food for Fleur from the kitchens.

Ron swallowed the lump in his throat and put his present and letter to Hermione back in his bag while Harry rubbed his shoulder consolingly, watching her go with a very pained expression on his face…

* * *

Fleur lay in bed, knees bent while she used her thighs as a makeshift desk. She was completing the last of her homework Hermione had graciously brought her earlier that evening. The two of them were in silence, finishing their work for the weekend. Fleur sated herself by occasionally glancing at the back of Hermione's white blouse and hair while she worked diligently at her desk under the only light in the room. She also thought about the Gryffindor's _adventures_ with her comrades earlier that Hermione so eagerly told her about.

Hermione had the misfortune of taking over her duties, and as such, was required to go on rounds with the Head Boy on certain nights. Right after Hermione handed Fleur her work and asked various questions about her state of being, she had to hurry off to meet Draco in the corridors to begin their rounds. Fleur felt rather indifferent about Hermione's dilly dallying with Draco, but Hermione certainly seemed disgruntled about it when she returned a few hours ago.

_Draco and Hermione were walking the corridors in a strained, civil silence. How Draco found it in him to be civil was beyond Hermione, but she didn't dare complain whilst she perused the halls with Fleur's comrade. She had long since learned to not judge others, but Draco and the other Slytherins sans Fleur seemed like such easy targets for her lingering suspicions – Draco wasn't sneering, he wasn't smirking, frowning; nothing!_

_The only words they exchanged for a long time were about duties, and it was simply Draco droning to Hermione about regular procedures and precautions they were to take each night they patrolled together. Hermione was wary of this; usually he'd be taking the opportunity to slander her with his words. After another particularly long and awkward silence, Hermione spoke up about this._

" _Look Malfoy, I know you're probably angry at me because I have Fleur's title for the time being. I just want to make it clear that I didn't do anything to harm her—"_

" _She told me what happened, Granger. Don't flatter yourself."_

" _Oh. Well, good. So…you're not angry?"_

" _Why do you care?"_

" _I'm just trying to be civil, Malfoy. I'm tired of the animosity between us, really. I always have been."_

" _Well the world doesn't revolve around you; let's get that straight right now. Things won't end because_ you _want them to. Don't even try with me. You're even worse than I am."_

" _Excuse me?"_

" _You heard me, damnit." Draco stopped abruptly and Hermione turned her head to the side while she faced him, taking a deep breath while she regarded him sternly. "You hated her for all these years. Last I checked, you were the only one in this bloody castle who had something against her. You can't accept when someone is better than you. I don't even know you, nor do I want to, but it's clear as crystal to me. That's the reason why you only have two friends, Granger. Trust me – Fleur's not one of them."_

" _First of all, I_ don't _think the world revolves around me. Second, Fleur is my friend. I've gotten over that ignorant phase of mine if you must know."_

" _Ohhh and now that you're_ over it _you think things will just be all dilly dally with_ my _best friend?"_

" _Yes! Fleur's a wonderful person, regardless if she associates herself with people like you—"_

" _You don't even know half of the reasons why she bleeding_ associates _herself with me. And I bet if you did you'd be out of her room faster than I can say 'I told you so'. Actually, invite me to the shindig when she finally does tell you. I'd love a front row seat to the show."_

" _Malfoy, just stop it. I trust her. I'm not walking out on her regardless of what she's been through."_

" _Because she's such a wonderful person? She's got you wrapped around her long ass fingernails, Granger. Get out now while you can. I'm actually being nice, so I suggest you follow my generous advice."_

" _I think you're just jealous."_

_The look on his face was one of absolute disgust, and Hermione nearly cringed at the sight. But she was all too used to letting her mouth sputter whatever she felt was dignified when she was around Draco. It was the same path her mindframe took with Fleur for too many years beforehand, really._

" _Jealous? Merlin, Granger, what are you on? You're the last thing other than Weasley's arse that I'd be jealous of! Like I said – you're even worse than I am. You don't know everything. Fleur can't just be analysed like some book, then you've got her figured out only after a_ few days _of reading her. I give her credit for being the slyest bitch I've ever had the fortune to meet."_

" _Sly…?"_

" _That's right. Actually, go on – try and read her. I dare you. You'll be miserable and broken by the end of it. What a wonderful fate to wish upon you. It's quite fitting if I do say so myself. Just don't go running to anyone, 'specially not me when you end up a crying mess. I know you will. I know her."_

" _What a load of rubbish, Malfoy. I'm not falling for your act."_

" _This is like a bloody apocalypse; you suddenly scampering in her life, mine too, all on account for you being the supposed hero. She's not a damsel in distress and she's not your friend. You'll_ fall _soon enough, Granger. Count on it."_

Just as Fleur finished her essay for Charms, she carefully set all of her things on the nightstand, cautious to not move her head at all as she did. She regarded Hermione with heavy-lidded eyes as she watched her finish the last of her work as well. The girl kept chewing the end of her quill anxiously in between note-taking, and Fleur felt a slow simmer behind her own eyes while she continued to observe.

A sleepy haze settled throughout her body, and a gentle prickle of shivers took over her head while she watched Hermione, listened to the scratching of her quill, observed the bit of her face she could see from her angle… Hermione looked rather angry. Draco must have struck several nerves, it seemed. The poor boy was probably just overprotective. Understandable. But Hermione didn't understand this.

Fleur thought about this. Hermione said that she trusts her. Curious. Fleur continued to ponder Hermione's words, mulling them over carefully and leaving no letter unturned while she continued to watch the wordsmith herself at her desk. It was quite late, but that didn't seem to stir Hermione at all. Fleur herself felt rather languid, effects of her vertigo lingering strongly while she continued to watch the Gryffindor at work. For once, she didn't care about fighting the illness.

It wasn't until Hermione stopped and put her things away that Fleur realised her tired state. She was still too tired to realise that Hermione had walked over to her side, looking down at her worriedly while she bit her lip and gently pulled at her fingers. Fleur raised a lazy eyebrow at Hermione, prompting her to explain the reason for her odd behaviour. Well, Hermione seemed to always behave this way around Fleur, she supposed. As if it really mattered why.

"Fleur, ah… Have you eaten?"

"I have."

"All right… Well…it's rather late… Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?"

"I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?" That strange drip of playfulness fell in rivulets from Fleur's tone and she found herself smirking at her mild entertainment with the flush of Hermione's cheeks. She's not so bad, really. Well, not yet, at least. Fleur was yet to be sure of anything quite yet. "I really don't have very many options, you know. I'm sure you must have something in mind."

"I… I can prepare a b-bath…for you…"

"For _us._ It would be terribly rude of me to not include you. It's large enough for the both of us."

"B-but… Fleur, I don't think I'm…comfortable…with that…"

"Hm? We're both women here. I don't see anything wrong with it. Either way, I'm quite unable to get up and bathe myself. You'll have to get used to these kinds of things."

"…I suppose."

"Good. You'll join me then. Do prepare the bath for _us._ We can use it as… _friend_ time."

"Y-yes… Yes, all right… I'll… I'll go do that."

"Mhm."

Fleur chuckled softly, and Hermione tensed slightly from the neck up before she was off to the loo in the next room. She preoccupied herself with staring at the buttons of her nightshirt that ended just at her thigh while Hermione went about her task. If Fleur didn't know any better, she thought she heard the girl mumbling to herself about something to do with scented soaps. Fleur chuckled again; Hermione was making far too much of the situation than it actually was.

The quarter Veela mused to herself about the reasons for Hermione's jittery demeanour. It was a vague improvement from the scowling of yesteryear, but there was also a lacklustre in Hermione's eyes. Fleur blinked away the sleep from her heavy eyes and continued to lay and watch the open door, inside of which her _friend_ was hard at work. She observed the light coming from the room just past her curved blonde fringes running across her eye, fighting the need to shake them from her face due to the inevitable forthcoming of pain that would take over her head.

Anger at the situation was hard to come by for Fleur – she seldom grew angry at anything to begin with. It was, to her, a loss of control to show anything other than passiveness or mockery or sarcasm. Hermione was bound to ask questions about this, and about everything else for that matter if she even had it in her to say anything at all tonight.

But Hermione did have it in her to peek out the doorframe and try to compose herself before walking over to Fleur with her eyes glued to the floor. Fleur raised both of her eyebrows at this, and the gesture nearly startled Hermione when she finally reached the Veela and looked at her for a moment. Hermione swallowed; Fleur relaxed her face.

Both of them still felt _something_ spark inside of them in their silence…

Fleur was surprised; Hermione actually leaned over and settled her hands on the top button of her nightshirt. The delicate pressure from the unfamiliar touch of another's hand upon her chest was inviting, and it showed in the lazy look of urgency Fleur was giving to Hermione, who, bless her, was trying her hardest to keep her nerves from showing themselves…

Hermione unclasped the first button with some frivolous difficulty, her usual cut-throat meticulousness lost upon her while she quickly busied herself with moving to the next button and not lingering on what little of Fleur she'd just revealed to her virgin eyes. Fleur continued breathing just fine while she watched the worry and apprehension swim in Hermione's eyes, nearly drowning the poor thing in her own emotions.

The torrid fear that was ever so present in Hermione's darkening vessels spread to her face quickly, more and more the further down her hands ventured after finishing with the painful labour of unbuttoning the cream silk about Fleur's equally creamy, silky flesh. With every breath Fleur took, the topmost area of her shirt began to settle lower and lower upon her body, excruciatingly slowly but surely revealing what Hermione will no doubt have the pleasure of bearing witness to in just a few moments' time…

Unknown was finally becoming a truth for poor Hermione while she finished with the last of the buttons. Fleur continued to lie upon her bed, her head tilted to the side in curiosity while Hermione kept her hands over the finally, _completely_ unbuttoned shirt over her thigh. Hermione seemed to be torn, and Fleur had all of the answers for her just waiting under the only thing keeping the girl from feeling the very pores from which the sensual haze she was no doubt feeling was emanating from. Fleur absently twirled a lock of her sheet of blonde about her finger before resigning herself to brushing one of her sleeves off of her shoulder. But, again, Hermione surprised her – the girl had the same thing in mind, and just so happened to have placed her slightly trembling hand upon Fleur's smooth one.

A lazy grin curled about Fleur's features while she bit her lip; Hermione did not retract her hand away. Something was keeping her there. This _something_ was very interesting to Fleur. _Very_ interesting indeed. Hermione swallowed before guiding Fleur's hand to the removal of her sleeve while her other hand busied itself with doing the same on Fleur's other side.

There was a strange ambiance about the room while Fleur and Hermione listened to their synched breaths, one increasing in fervour, the other running to catch up and stay there. It was unknown as to who was leading and who was following; both were entirely too focused on Hermione slowly revealing the rest of Fleur's body. Again, who was the more focused remains to be said.

Fleur alternated in between watching Hermione's eyes and her careful hands brushing on her warm torso as the girl worked. A tense concentration was about her, trying in vain to wrap completely around her. But Fleur removed it with merely her eyes as simply as Hermione continued to remove her shirt without fail. The poor thing didn't let her eyes linger too long on the exposed swell of Fleur's chest, which really was _divine_ like everyone claimed it to be. Hermione was either taking her time or biding her time; whichever it was made Fleur relax her face and continue to watch the red slowly wrap itself more and more around Hermione's face.

And once her task was finally completed, she bent down just a little more, careful to not let her eyes loiter upon the three sources that could easily make any man's nose bleed while she curled her delicate hand about Fleur's back. The feeling of another was, again, new to Fleur. But her heritage knew it to be a natural exchange between people. Between friends. Between…whatever they were…

Hermione settled her hand just at the small of her back and gently lifted Fleur's lithe body ever so slightly to remove the nightshirt from underneath her. But just as she was about to possibly bide more of her time to busy herself with needless folding, Fleur reached up and began to tug gently at Hermione's loose tie.

Fleur didn't hesitate to untie the thing while Hermione continued to hover over her, completely frozen. Both of them were completely foreign to another undressing them, but Fleur didn't see anything alien about it.

A certain level of intimacy was revealed in the way that Fleur took her time with the fabric, glossing her feather-tipped fingers across Hermione's stiff shoulders just under her blouse while she removed the tie. Fleur's eyes narrowed and darkened momentarily while she allowed her lissom fingers to smooth across her shoulders for Hermione to relax, but relax she did not. Fleur's fingers actually picked up subtle currents running through the skin… Her hair was soft and almost glossy as Fleur brushed her fingers over it before setting her tie to the side and moving her hands to the buttons on Hermione's shirt.

Hermione's shirt was unbuttoned a fair distance in between her collar bone and the swell of her chest. It was safe, but not that safe. Still, Fleur effortlessly undid the barriers; gently, carefully…

She noticed Hermione trying desperately to not let her eyes rake Fleur's form, still nude in the pale candlelit room. The loo also appeared to have the same lighting from what Fleur could see. But seeing what she was made a tiny smirk flash across her face while she continued to let her fingers go over and under what was barely rising and falling twice a minute at most by the rate at which Hermione was breathing. Again, Fleur was unsure as to why Hermione was so nervous. This was normal. To _her._

And once the buttons were finally finished, Fleur took the liberty of removing the shirt from Hermione's body. Slow, assured movements did the job, as did Fleur's hands glossing down Hermione's smooth arms. Fleur lazily tossed the shirt aside before pulling Hermione a bit closer, aware of the ever increasing warmth not only under her hands, but in the room as a whole as she glided her nails across Hermione's back to start the unclasping of her bra.

White. It was, again, safe. Hermione's features were nicely developed at her age now, but her confidence left much to be desired. Fleur felt a swell of… _something_ settle inside of her while she undid the annoying bra, subtly letting her eyes stray on Hermione's chest, which was also divine in its own ways, before edging her palms down the warm curves before her, en route to a little black skirt.

The pressure Fleur put on Hermione's hips while she inched her hands down was just enough so that she'd finish two jobs with one solitary effort. Fleur noted to herself that Hermione was quite statuesque at the moment. Upon finding yet another curve, smooth thighs, and the beginning of the exposure to something so much more was probably the reason, Fleur surmised. Still, Fleur took in how surprisingly svelte Hermione's body was. Not nearly as svelte as her own, but it was still that – _svelte._

But the second Fleur thought Hermione was loosening up and actually let her eyes wander to her thighs, the girl suddenly whipped her head in the opposite direction and focused on one of her posters that required her immediate attention. Fleur sighed and let Hermione's skirt and underwear fall to the floor; they were both completely exposed now.

The frightened body language Hermione was giving only made Fleur regard her indifferently. She decided to keep her comments to herself until they were in the bath while she wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, tugging her down gently and arching her body towards her as a sign that she needed to be carried. The naturally seductive undertones of her actions went well above Fleur's head, but certainly not Hermione's – the blush was evidence enough of this.

Hermione took a moment to smartly step out of her skirt while Fleur respected her extremely limited privacy and kept her eyes to the bare minimum of Hermione's. There was a very small amount of resolve trying to build in her eyes, and Fleur caught it, hoping to keep it there while Hermione placed an arm under the Veela's thighs, and kept the other adjusted for cradling Fleur's head.

Fleur's eyes fluttered closed at the mounds just at her side, and at Hermione's gentlemanly care while she picked her up with little difficulty. It was either that or Hermione's insides were screaming from the weight – she was being wise to keep it to an inward level if this was the case.

The gentle disposition Hermione kept about herself whilst she guided Fleur to the bath was calming. Even the sultry loo stilled her senses, once again nearly succumbing to the sleepiness in her senses. It was sated somewhat when Hermione carefully dipped her in the lukewarm water and lay the back of her head against a soft mound of towels.

Fleur regarded Hermione with a lazy gaze in thanks before biting back a grin; Hermione was still overtly shy and quickly dipped in the bath, leaning against the opposite side not too far away. She was close enough for Fleur to entwine their legs together, Hermione steadily reddening once again. Fleur took a deep, quiet breath while she waited for Hermione to catch her eye, basking in the warmth seeping through her pores, joining with that of her heritage exuding from her. The bubbles just on the surface of the water smelled of chocolate. Hermione chose well. But she was almost sinking in the bubbles in a vain attempt to cover her well-formed body. Fleur finally seized the moment to comment on this.

"You have a wonderful body, you know. I don't see why you're choosing to hide it."

"Ehm…w-well… I just… You see, I've never… _exposed_ myself like this to someone. Ever… Especially not another…woman. B-but…thank you."

"Mhm. You're not comfortable with your body?"

"N-no…"

"Mmm… I don't see why not. I've never done this before, either. You are quite strange."

"Fleur, I'm not _you."_

"Of course not. You are you and I am me. If we were the same person I don't think we'd be in this situation. Well…not _situation._ Perhaps, _arrangement_ would be better."

"You're really not angry with me?"

"No. What reason do I have to brood on anything? You're stuck with me, or at least until this ache goes away."

"I don't know… You always seem rather…angry. Or at least _before_ you did…"

"I'm usually not aware of the expression on my face. The default is a passive scowl, I suppose. That's the only reason why."

"And now you are?"

"I seem to be paying more attention to yours."

Fleur narrowed her eyes at Hermione's uncomfortable shift. She became reacquainted with the water-smooth feeling of their legs entwined underwater, and her eyes had the pleasure of seeing a bit more of Hermione's chest. An exposure to possibly prove that she was no longer uncomfortable, but it only further exposed her vulnerability. She was so wary of everything; she was that much more wary of her face just between her chestnut tresses. Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead; the humidity dampening her hair considerably. Fleur's ever warming eyes continued to observe, to study…

"I-is that a good thing…?"

"I would think so, yes."

"Why do you…?"

"What else is there to do? Besides, there's something interesting about it. It keeps me entertained."

"Uhm…sure…"

"You really ought to loosen up. I thought you trusted me?"

"I… I do, Fleur… This is just…it's all so new for me…"

"You're scared."

"No! No, I'm not… well, no… not quite. Not exactly… I'm just not used to…"

"Not used to me."

"Well…yes. I mean, you're right – I've never said a word to you in seven years until this week and now look at where we are… Again, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have judged you. It was terrible of me, I know…"

"Stop the guilt trip, won't you? It's not that I don't care to hear it; I don't care for you degrading yourself like that. It's very unbecoming."

"S-sorry—I mean.. well… Fleur, I'm not… I'm not as strong as you are. I don't think I ever will be."

"Strong… I've just been to a lot of places, seen a lot of things. It doesn't make me any stronger than you are. We both have our assets and faults, you know. Don't go ranting and raving about either of mine. And don't give me that look – I actually have faults. I'm just a lot better at hiding things than you probably are."

"It's not good to bottle things up…"

"Life is not good for me, as you heard the other day."

"Fleur…please, don't say that… You're… you're _wonderful…_ I see it now… Besides, no matter what Draco says, I will always be here for you. I know what it's like to feel alone sometimes…or all of the time, really…"

Fleur clenched her jaw shut and watched Hermione sternly. Hermione bit her lip, a habit Fleur began to analyse now, and tried her best to keep eye contact. Strings were at work once again, pulling both of their stomachs and hearts this way and that, jostling their thoughts about… Fleur kept a hold on hers, but try as she might, she pondered her folly of showing Hermione anger at her attempts at getting her to open up.

There was no happy medium for her expressions, Fleur concluded. There was always something in both of their eyes, giving the other away in some way. However far on the spectrum Fleur chose to wander, Hermione seemed like she would follow her, regardless of her discomfiture with the matter. She'd already proven herself various times in a mere four days so far.

Fleur took a deep breath, arching her body toward Hermione as she did. She continued to watch the brown before her, spattering answers to her like haphazard chocolate and syrup, but Fleur's eyes merely froze the sweets to the spot while she tried to look past all of that. She kept her demeanour _strong_ while she searched and searched for something beyond Hermione's eyes. A lie, a fooling, a joke, a game, a victory in mind… But nothing was there. Only genuine concern and sheer honesty. Fleur took note of this and visibly relaxed, as did Hermione.

"Fleur… I mean it… I'm not trying to trick you or to hurt you. I'd really like it if we could be closer friends over time."

"Why?"

"You mean a lot to me, believe it or not… I just hope that I'll be able to have the same effect on you…"

"Why do I matter so much to you?"

"You are… You're special to me. I know we haven't been friends for very long at all, but I see something now that I've started taking the time to look…"

"And what do you see…?"

Fleur swallowed when Hermione had the boldness to move from her end of the bath and crawl over to her. The sound of the shifting of water and the feel of Hermione getting closer to her rang through her system, making her realise that she'd broken her deportment. Hermione stayed on all fours while she got within reasonable, but a still close distance to Fleur's face, her breasts brushing against hers with a strange, _tantalising_ touch…

The stronger scent of chocolate that had soaked Hermione's body sated her nose; she turned it upward in some feeble attempt at control but Hermione didn't dare flinch. She didn't back away. Nothing… Hermione only sniffed a little before giving Fleur's azures a white hot gaze that stabbed piercing reverberations though the Veela's skin before she spoke softly…

"I smell fear. And yet I see fearlessness. It doesn't make sense to me."

Fleur narrowed her eyes; Gryffindors and their nerve… Fleur may have underestimated the lion just before her, watching her with such a gentle scrutiny. The option of pushing Hermione away flashed through her mind, but she merely let it continue on its way – Hermione would only revel in her righteousness if she did that. But this wasn't a _game…_

It certainly felt that way…

"Fleur…it's not the end of the world if you open yourself up with me. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm not going to laugh at you… I want to get to know you."

"If you say so."

"R-really?"

"Yes."

"All right… But you seem tired… Perhaps we should prep for bed."

"Hmph. You get this close and you shy out on me?"

"No… I just don't want to pressure you into anything. I sort of get the feeling that you only agreed to tell me more about yourself because you don't want me to think that you're afraid. You've nothing to be afraid of… I just wish you'd understand that…"

Fleur let a look of bewilderment slip from her face just as Hermione moved back a bit to drain the bath. She then moved back to Fleur, once again resuming the same cradling of her head and tender hold on her before she stood with a subtle air of strength about herself. Fleur carefully wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck again, which was considerably less tense than before while Hermione stepped out of the tub and over to the expansive counter where she had towels laid out.

Just as Fleur took a deep breath while she pondered Hermione's words, she was laid down completely over one of the soft towels. Fleur watched Hermione's hands this time as the younger girl dried her off with a gentle precision, not at all embarrassed anymore at either of them being so _exposed._ The careful brushing of the dry softness just under Hermione's delicate hands was…enjoyable.

Even Hermione's daring action of drying her completely in between her legs was enjoyable. _Different…_ but there was still some entertainment to be found with it. Hermione was blushing once more, but for perfectly good reason. Her fingers were strangely dexterous on her nether regions, despite the soft barrier. It was highly sensual, highly familiar even though she'd never let anyone touch her there, and highly relaxing.

Fleur was almost disappointed when Hermione glossed her hands from in between her legs to dry the rest of her body. The almost was lost upon her, however, when she replayed Hermione's words and actions in her mind. Her tone, her emphasis, her care; it was all carelessly meticulous, just as Hermione was with everything. She was like this with her schoolwork, with her actions, and now with her words and her careful thoughts about their aftereffects. She really did take into consideration what Fleur had said to her about underestimation, it seemed.

Fleur finally moved her eyes to Hermione's when she felt the girl cup her face with her damp, warm hand. Hermione worked carefully to dry Fleur's hair, very wary of sudden movements so as to keep Fleur's head pain-free. Fleur swallowed again, feeling something somewhere simmer inside of her again while she took in how genuine Hermione may have been. She was unsure, and the uncertainty was _not_ appealing to her.

And while she watched Hermione dry herself off quickly, most of the water already dried by now, she could only wonder if it really would be the end of the world if she confided in Hermione what she only told to Draco. And possibly even more… _far_ more than that… She was harmless. Fleur was certain of this. But harmless in nature could mean a possible source of pain in many other ways.

She wasn't sure. Her indecisiveness was something she grew tired of day in and day out. She didn't even realise that she'd wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck and was being guided back to bed in her dark room. Hermione simply placed Fleur underneath the duvet and gave her a small smile before redressing. Fleur actually blinked at her for a moment while she watched Hermione swiftly put her clothes back on and put all of her things back in her bag. Hermione felt Fleur's stare on her and turned to regard her once her tasks were completed.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Fleur and merely shrugged before retrieving Harry's Invisibility Cloak and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She walked carefully to the door, fully aware of Fleur's darkened eyes on the back of her head. Fleur continued to watch her while she stood there, hand just over the handle, looking as if she were deep in thought about something.

Silence. Again. It tainted the air around them and made them both quite unaware of breathing and blinking; only thinking. Only watching with a deep concentration what it was their eyes were focused on. There was nothing to say between them – Fleur was tired, this was _her_ room, and Hermione was in no place to spend the night a second time.

Hermione slowly turned around and Fleur felt her gaze harden around the edges of her silhouette some feet away from her. More time and silence passed before Fleur licked her lips and spoke audibly, softly…

"I nearly forgot."

"Wh-what's that…?"

"Happy birthday, Hermione. What are you now, eighteen? I suggest you act like it."

By the look on Hermione's face, she was clearly expecting a different response. Fleur merely relaxed her face, satisfied by her reaction, and winked at her before closing her eyes to go to sleep. Hermione narrowed her eyes in a small bout of confusion and wonderment; Fleur was quite aware that Hermione never told her when her birthday was.

Perhaps it was her last comment that ruffled Hermione's feathers so…

"Thank you, Fleur… Thank you. Good night."

No response. Hermione slowly turned on her heel and placed the Cloak around herself before exiting quietly. Fleur knew Hermione would continue to ponder her words…a spot of revenge for Hermione having affected her so with her own words.

But both of them were still losing; falling in some way, no matter what they tried to tell themselves.


	6. fragments of memories

_people can take everything away from you.._

_but they can never take away your truth…_

_but the question is -_

_can you handle mine..?_

_~My Prerogative by that gosh darn Britney Spears_

_**vi.** _ _fragments of memories_

_And as it was, Fleur and her other Slytherin companions were sitting in their compartment, quite uninterrupted save for the two malicious stares they received from Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger on their way to their compartment with Harry Potter. Fleur continued to observe the city of London racing by as the train pulled out of the station, oblivious to all except for her own private thoughts._

_Ron's eyesight was directed at a smug looking Draco, while Hermione's was directly on Fleur, who really couldn't care less about what the girl had to say, visually or not. Pansy noticed the looks and chortled loudly just as the three Gryffindors were out of sight._

" _Draco, you'd think the blood traitor'd realise that we only laugh at his stupid arse every time he tries to act all tough."_

" _Yeah, I know. But what difference does it make? An excuse to laugh is good as ever, most especially when the idiot is making himself look, well, idiotic." Draco smiled charmingly at Pansy's burst of laughter. Blaise held back a gag and continued to stay silent._

" _And we can't forget about Granger," Pansy pointed out snidely. Draco snorted derisively, still smiling._

" _Oh please. Those two just belong together. I can see it now – the ceremony'll be in a ditch in the ground. Not even Mudblood's big hair'll be able to fit in the hole of shit."_

" _Her hair's actually calmed down a lot." Pansy, Theodore and Draco snorted at the same time, realising the truth in the words but still laughing at them anyway._

" _Yeah well, hopefully Black snuffs out Potter soon," Theodore chimed in. Draco nodded sagely and stretched out languidly. "Only a matter of time, ain't it?"_

" _Sooner rather than later," Draco spat. "Saint_ Potter… _I'll be damned if anyone could ever be so ridiculously famous for doing absolutely nothing. People these days'll worship_ dung beetles _if they found something any_ real _person could ever figure out."_

_Thus most of the ride was spent with Draco, Theodore, and Pansy doing ridiculous renditions of the Trio, as well as hopeful imitations of Black murdering a helpless Harry. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed when appropriate and Blaise and Fleur chose to not pay them any attention. It was routine for Fleur to sit through their banter as a favour for Draco – she purchased all of her school supplies every morning of September first and rode the Hogwarts Express back to the castle with her so-called chums._

_After more hours of their ceaseless banter and Fleur feeling the modest joy of watching the thunderstorm ravage out the window diminish slightly, the train began to come to a stop. Blaise and Fleur remained calm, but the rest of the compartment froze up considerably and looked completely terrified. The lights began to flicker on and off, finally cutting out completely once the screeching of the railing ended. Fleur watched calmly as the water on the window began to congeal, the cracking sounds making her crack her own neck subconsciously to rid the cricks. Draco watched her with a fearful glint in his eyes._

_A horrible feeling of foreboding set in the pit of Fleur's stomach while she ignored the whimpers of her friends and checked for her wand in her robes pocket. Once she was sure it was there, she stood up gracefully and made her way out of the compartment. Blaise followed after her, both of their faces set and minds calm while they patrolled the dark corridors. Fearful faces watched them pass, both of them mere silhouettes against the cloudy gray light emanating from the frozen windows._

_Fleur's heels barely made any sound against the floor of the red steamer, nor did Blaise's flat soles. Unnatural chills attempted to overtake them both as they continued, Blaise following loyally after his friend who seemed to have an unspoken attraction leading her somewhere. The silence was broken only from the muffled cries from the compartments and their own steady breathing. Their breaths began to come out as vapour, complimenting their cold demeanours perfectly while they continued to tread with courageous poise. A strange need, however subtle, rose inside of Fleur while she kept walking, aware of her freezing legs underneath her skirt but trying her best to ignore them anyway._

_Something or some_ one _was calling for her…somehow._

" _Fleur," Blaise spoke quietly, still stern as they passed numerous compartments with horrified students._

" _Hm?"_

" _Where exactly are you going? Not that I mind; just curious, is all. Something doesn't feel right."_

_Fleur shrugged and merely continued to walk, and Blaise followed after her without a word. She stopped abruptly, however, in front of one compartment in particular when she heard someone crying out for her. The sound of their stomping footsteps from their running mimicked her heartbeats once she finally felt power sapped from her. Try as she might to hold on to it, something was determined to keep it from her._

" _FLEUR!" Draco yelled vehemently, fear dripping from his voice. Fleur set her jaw and kept her ground, listening intently on…something… "Fleur are you mad? Don't you know there are—"_

_A hiss of a cat and a scream pierced her ears, making her turn on the spot; Draco fell to the floor with a resounding thud and a scream of his own while Blaise dashed off. Fleur kept her ground, hand gripped over her wand, but she couldn't move her limbs at all even if she tried. The sight, the smell, the memories – they rendered her immobilised._

_It was as if her very own weaknesses, not the freezing, decayed hand of a Dementor attacked her thin neck with a vice-like grip. A more sound absence of feeling, hope, and life as she knew it entered her; the pitiful feeling thrived on her vain attempts at keeping her composure. It was all she could do; nothing more, even while the cloaked figure lifted her right from her heeled feet, feeling completely thrilled, in its own twisted way, from the pain in Fleur's heart._

_Any and all feeling in her skin was frozen. She herself was; Fleur willed her body to go numb to prepare for…anything. But the ice soon broke completely when she was sent flying through the compartment window, eliciting a scream from Hermione and a wild cry from Ron._

_The Dementor held Fleur up high, the back of her rigid neck against the shelves overhead. Its hollow breaths, the stabbing chills, and the deficiency of control – they made her forget where she was. She was consumed with a fear that still refused to show in her desolate eyes. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult to come by. Defending herself was pointless. Her horrible memories were crippling her; stifling her even more than the cold and the…shame? The shame that she couldn't do a thing…_

_That's what it was. Fleur was ashamed… The only pride she had left was in her equally freezing eyes, even though she felt everything being sucked from her. Her very beauty was leaving her, making her gaunt with the reality that she could never escape her past._

_A mere…puppet… That's all she was. And this…this_ thing _was dangling her, pulling her strings and rendering her completely useless… Her consciousness was leaving her; the screams and darkness were taking over. All those years of training…and for what…? To still look like weakness incarnate in front of Draco…?_

_In front of Hermione…_

* * *

Weeks passed, October was soon edging into November, and Hermione was at her wits end with her… _arrangement_ with Fleur.

Hermione was sitting cross-legged on Fleur's bed right next to her as the quarter Veela lay under the duvet. She was biting her lip worriedly, confused and concerned as to why Fleur's health was deteriorating so rapidly. Fleur was watching her with heavy lidded eyes, her hand in both of Hermione's. That night was a simple one for the two – they were simply up, talking. Hermione was extremely grateful that Fleur seemed to trust her with most things as opposed to weeks ago.

But it seemed as if ever since their first bath together, and they had plenty more after that, that Fleur's hallucinations became extremely spontaneous and confusing for poor Hermione. She had no idea what to do most of the time, especially when Fleur began shouting at imaginary threats around her room. Fleur was also prone to sleeping for long, unusual amounts of time, and it left Hermione quite disoriented and frazzled. Nearly three days passed at one point when Fleur didn't wake at all. Hermione was so distressed that she ended up in tears, and that's when one of the more…interesting hallucinations began.

Now, every time Fleur hallucinated, it went a little something like this –

_Hermione skipped going to Hogsmeade with the others that day and chose to stay in with Fleur. It was nightfall by the time Fleur's eyes characteristically went out of focus. Hermione was sitting upon the bed, Fleur lying underneath the duvet; all was silent except for Fleur's hitched breathing. She was looking at Hermione with a strange dark tinge in her eyes; one that shot spasms of unknown and unfamiliar questions, feelings, and wonders through the younger girl's body. Fleur could almost feel them while she gently tugged Hermione's hand, a minute frown upon her visage. Hermione swallowed and leaned in, slowly…_

_Unabated questions continued their course, and Hermione was extremely befuddled when Fleur cupped her face in her warm hands. There were vestiges of moisture upon her palm, the warmth from Hermione's hands in hers had accumulated as such, but it only made Hermione's breath hitch ever so slightly. This proximity of their faces was no longer new or unfamiliar to the Gryffindor; Fleur seemed to enjoy the closeness for some far off reasons._

_But now when Fleur held Hermione's face close, so close that Hermione had to either cross her eyes or focus on one or the other of Fleur's eyes to look at her properly, something different happened. This time when Fleur held her, Hermione heard the Frenchwoman's slightly accented murmur to straddle her. And so Hermione obediently did so, the shifting of duvet, sheets, and legs further pronouncing the worry in Hermione's eyes and the strange dark haze in Fleur's. And Fleur continued to hold on to what Hermione's eyes were giving her. Hermione was hypersensitive of how long Fleur's manicured nails were; they felt like home upon her warming face. The gentle pressure of Fleur's digits felt even more comfortable to her._

_Breaths picked up dangerously. Scents were picked up; Hermione noted that Fleur still smelled of chocolate. Even her warm breaths through her parted mouth smelled of the sweet. Hermione's confusion began to settle in the pit of her stomach, churning into a very warm, unfamiliar vapour within. Fleur's eyes were so deep with…longing, perhaps? Hermione didn't know. But she felt like she could have fallen in them, had Fleur's lithe hands not been keeping her stable. Hermione knew she could not move, for Fleur may have twisted her head about dangerously. The last thing Fleur needed was to experience that dreadful pain in her head for the first time on Hermione's shy account._

_The fringes over Fleur's eye were shimmering, reflecting any scraps of light in the room. They were reflecting so much that Hermione may have seen herself in them. She felt her own fear and uncertainty, and utter confusion about whatever else it was that she was feeling. Hermione supposed that she was simply flattered that Fleur was so comfortable with her. Fleur was beginning to become something of a best friend from how much they spoke of themselves, but Hermione knew that her friend slyly avoided speaking of her life before Hogwarts, her life outside of Hogwarts, or anything if not her current thoughts on the matters Hermione spoke of. Fleur was her shrink of sorts. A_ female _best friend._

_A female who, Hermione realised quite late, was very near the point of kissing her. Their lips were not prodding the others', but Hermione felt her own began to accumulate a bit of warm moisture from Fleur's saccharine breaths. It wasn't until Fleur began to speak, her tones low and husky, that Hermione nearly fell right into the inviting embrace of Fleur's lips…_

" _You're so beautiful… So beautiful… How did I never notice you before…? You snuck up on me…"_

_Hermione only barely kept her face from flushing in between Fleur's palms. The cerulean gaze upon her hadn't lost its intensity, despite the eyes still being out of focus. Hermione calmed down and had to remind herself that Fleur was simply hallucinating… Hallucinating… Despite how completely and utterly flattered Hermione was, it was just a hallucination._

_That's all it was…_

" _Did I really…?"_

" _Mmm…you did… I didn't think that this was possible…"_

" _What do you mean…?"_

" _I never thought it was possible for me to…lose myself completely… I'd always gazed but never got too close… Only once did I come so close to kissing you…"_

" _I'm… I'm here, aren't I…?"_

" _Yes… But I can't find my heart… It ran away."_

" _It did…?"_

" _It did… You see… I never knew the meaning of beauty until I laid eyes on you… And now you're here,_ we're here, _and my heart's gone… far, far away from racing so much… It's that thing you do to me…"_

" _Fleur…you… You're… I mean… I-I don't know what to say…"_

" _Say no more… I'm still trying to look for my heart… I think I know where it might be…"_

" _Where…?"_

" _In your eyes… Why do you think I love gazing into them so much…? Mmm…"_

A strange variation of the aforementioned details happened each and every time, but not once did their lips ever meet. Hermione was watching Fleur with inattentive eyes, thinking back to all of those nights of said hallucinations. But Fleur never seemed to remember them. Hermione wasn't sure if she was comfortable with this or not, nor had she told anyone else. She wrote them down in the journal Madam Pomfrey supplied her with for medical purposes only, and the nurse knew to keep the information confidential. They were scheduled to have a sit down and discuss Fleur's progress thus far in a few days' time.

Before Fleur could speak up about Hermione's unusual silence, the Gryffindor spoke up and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She didn't even think if she'd regret it or not. Not even after she'd uttered it so softly, just loud enough for Fleur to hear.

"Have you ever _almost_ kissed anyone before?"

Fleur narrowed her eyes but Hermione didn't dare falter; she knew how to deal with her friend now. Showing her fear would never do. The consequence was that Hermione seldom became fearful around Fleur, whom she was conveniently around for most of her time. There were still lingering tendencies of shyness that were hard to overcome, but Hermione pushed them to the side and proposed to let them be.

She had nothing to hide from Fleur; she told her nearly everything that came to mind. And though Fleur only offered her opinions on the matters, never chiming in with her own experiences or random sentiments, Hermione was sure that, in time, this would change.

For now, this was how their friendship worked. And Hermione was ever so grateful for at least that much.

"Once."

"Really? When?" Hermione tried to play off her somewhat disappointment in the validity that Fleur had no recollection of her hallucinations. Fleur appeared not to have noticed, and Hermione was relieved.

"Second Year."

"Who was it?"

"Why the sudden interest in my non-existent love life, hm?"

"I don't know… I was just wondering, is all…"

"You want to know more about me, is that it? Just in general?"

"Well, yes… I mean, I realise that most of the time I'm just going on and on about myself. I'm sure you're sick of hearing about _my_ family and the Weasleys and Harry and Ron. We never talk about your family—"

"They're all dead."

"W-well…" Hermione felt stings of sympathy etch her eyes while she continued to observe Fleur's still passive expression, completely hurt and blindsided by the sudden confession. She decided to not brood on the surprise and instead quickly move things forward… "I wouldn't know that… I-I… I mean… I'm sorry for your loss, and… Well… I'm here if you want to…if you want to _talk_ about it…"

Hermione castigated herself for nearly stuttering at every interval, but she wondered in vain if she was more thrown by how calm Fleur was or the horrifying fact that she was an orphan. Such a thought had never occurred to Hermione, and she hoped and prayed mentally that Fleur would finally open up completely tonight.

It was yet another assumption on Hermione's part that stabbed her senses and made guilt well up inside of her. It stung, it burned; it nearly drowned her in a white hot pool of ignorance. This must have been one of the _things_ Malfoy had hinted to, and only continued to hint about whenever they went on their rounds together. Granted, the boy and his friends were increasingly less hostile to her, and only her, for reasons quite beyond her grasp.

Perhaps Fleur would open up tonight if, perhaps, she was the reason why her friends had stopped treating Hermione so horribly. They were selective in ignoring this rite for Harry and Ron, and Harry was vaguely suspicious of why Hermione was receiving special treatment. Ron was increasingly silent for reasons unknown, but she had learned to ignore him.

While Hermione continued to fidget with Fleur's hand in both of hers, Fleur sighed deeply and fixed her tired gaze on Hermione's hands while she spoke softly.

"It's a long story."

"I don't mind. I'd… I'd like to hear it… I promise I won't tell a soul if you don't want me to."

"Draco's the only one here who knows."

"He sort of hinted that…"

"He wants me to tell you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Fleur… I won't be scared away that easily. He thinks that I will be if you tell me."

"Fine. But there's something you should know first."

"I'm listening."

"I'm not eighteen."

"You're seventeen? That'd make sense, since you told me your birthday is August seventeenth…" Hermione didn't understand what the big deal was.

"No. I was seventeen in our Fourth Year."

It took a second longer than normal for Hermione to register this new information. Her face distorted into an expression of genuine shock; her heart may have even started racing from the news. She'd always _noticed_ that Fleur clearly looked more mature for her _assumed_ age… But… How was that even possible…? Fleur was clearly bright, and the only way for her to be as old as she was, was if she'd flunked a year or two. But that didn't make any sense!

" _F-fourth?_ S-so does that mean that _now_ you're…"

"Twenty, yes. Yes… That's exactly right…"

_On the eve of her fourteenth birthday, there sat Fleur, alone in the small room, statuesque while she waited for her visitor. The orphanage in which she resided was cold, desolate, unappealing – something she'd gotten used to over her near five years of residency in the building. She sat facing the only window in the room leading out to where she could only sneak out to when she got lucky. One hand was in her pocket, lazily running a finger across her forbidden instrument._

_Her clothes were strangely stylish and out of place for the institution. No one suspected that she snuck out frequently and purchased her own clothes. Of course she'd inherited all of her family's money… But what did it matter if she had no family? The emptiness she felt at the thought had always stayed with her, adding an intimidating edge to her features. It never left her, just like her memories of Draco. Her younger companion was most likely her only friend in the world. She wished him well._

_Just as she held back a nostalgic sigh, she heard a pair of footsteps tread into the room and over to the chair across from her. Fleur wore a look of subtle scrutiny upon her face; the tall old man clearly needed a shave. And when he sat, his blue eyes twinkled to the point of annoyance for her. His long white hair was unnecessary and made him look like quite the laughingstock to Fleur. When the last time it was that she laughed, she'd completely forgotten. With Draco some years ago, yes, but_ when?

" _I am not as humorous as you believe me to be, I assure you." His soft voice gave himself away, and Fleur sniffed while she turned her nose up._

" _You're a wizard."_

" _That I am, Miss Delacour."_

" _I'd appreciate it if you didn't use Legilimency on me. I've yet to master Occlumency completely."_

" _Impressive for a witch your age."_

" _Dumbledore, is it? Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore? You defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. You discovered the twelve uses for dragon blood, and you work with Alchemy with Nicholas Flamel."_

" _Why yes. You're well read on me, I see."_

" _There isn't much else to do here, I'm afraid."_

" _Tell me what you've been up to."_

" _Why don't you tell me why you're here first?"_

" _Tut, tut. I really am sitting on the edge of my seat here, curious about your divulges. However, you do deserve the truth. I have been searching for you for a very long time. Yes… a very long time indeed."_

" _Why?"_

" _I have information that the Dark Lord ordered your family to be killed. You see…he fears the Veela and what they are capable of. You're one of the last of your kind in Europe, I'm afraid..."_

" _And you know about Lucius…?"_

" _Oh yes… I know, but I have no definite proof that he performed the Imperius Curse upon you and made you kill your family."_

_Fleur said nothing. She merely crossed her arms and legs, staring straight ahead while she kept her jaw and face set. Dumbledore smiled sadly, taking a moment to give Fleur her needed moment to collect herself. Only deep breaths on her part were heard, routinely keeping her emotions down to a stark minimum._

_She remembered how much they all laughed at her. A mere child of nine years old, given her Mother's wand and Imperiused to kill her parents and baby sister… Lucius, the scoundrel; he laughed the loudest, the coldest… She remembered it all. It was all a_ game _to them… Lucius Malfoy even had the gall to laugh snidely once her task was complete and take her in, claiming that the Dark Lord will have his uses for her soon. Fleur accepted, hating her loss of_ control _that night. Hence her training._

_Hence the thread of Dumbledore's subsequent question._

" _What…did Lucius have you do in his abode, Miss Delacour?"_

" _Why do you need to know?"_

" _I wish to offer you a new home. A new place in which to polish your skills. But I need to know what you already do know so that we may take any needed precautions."_

" _You want me to attend Hogwarts."_

" _Yes. I would like that very much. But first, as I mentioned, I am curious as to what he had you do there and what you have been doing on your own here. This information will not be given to those who I do not deem necessary. I give you my word."_

" _Fine. Fine… Lucius drilled me in resisting the Imperius Curse for a year. He said it would tie into my Occlumency training, which he had me go through as well. His real intention was to, I think, keep me from being vulnerable to Voldemort. He never said it outright. His son, Draco… he and I are good friends. We still write to each other."_

" _I am pleased that you have not been completely sheltered, then. As for Mr. Malfoy, he has accepted his invitation to Hogwarts, if that is any further incentive to you."_

" _I suppose."_

" _And may I ask what you have been doing since the orphanage had you taken in?"_

" _Using my Mother's wand to practise magic. It's registered in France, but not here. No one's been able to track its usage so far. I've also been sneaking out, going to Flourish and Blotts to buy as many books, any books that I can. I've probably bought the entire store by now. The books I've read in their entireties."_

" _Every single one, really?"_

" _Even_ Hogwarts, A History. _It's rather dry, you know."_

" _I apologise. But you are very well read. And I assume that you have been purchasing a multitude of spellbooks?"_

" _Yes. Charms has piqued my interest considerably, as well as Herbology."_

" _So it is only coincidental that your name translates to 'flower' in French?"_

" _You're right."_

" _Interesting, Miss Delacour. Very interesting indeed. Would you mind showing me a spell or two?"_

" _Which?"_

" _A Disillusionment Charm, if you will. Since, as you say, you've an interest in Charms. You may call it your specialty if this is the case."_

_Fleur finally removed her Mother's wand from her pocket, casting the spell without any need for words. Dumbledore was humbly surprised at the non-verbal mastery, as well as Fleur's fluid perfection with the Charm; as expected, she began to become a chameleon to her surroundings. It felt as though someone had broken an egg over her head, the contents of the egg trickling down and enveloping her in a form of invisibility._

_Dumbledore nodded approvingly before Fleur performed the countercharm and continued to sit, waiting for his further instructions. The Headmaster regarded her pensively for a moment before speaking, modestly astounded at her prowess for such a young woman._

" _A Patronus Charm is of most interest to me as well, if you don't mind. I am very curious as to what animal yours takes."_

_His curiosity was answered instantaneously when Fleur performed the Charm and produced a corporeal Patronus in the shape of a sphinx. The silvery feline, a lion with the face of a beautiful woman, curled up at Fleur's heeled feet, watching Dumbledore with a territorial gaze while the old man chuckled and smiled. A symbol of silent strength, guardedness, beauty, and a riddle-like difficulty to master – this was undoubtedly Fleur Delacour._

" _You're quite the talented young lady, Miss Delacour. I am simply astounded at what you've managed to achieve for someone of your age. Not many wizards or witches can say they've performed either of those two Charms, even after their final year of schooling."_

" _It's elementary to me."_

" _You are quite ambitious."_

" _You're assuming I'm going to be placed in Slytherin, aren't you?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Voldemort was in Slytherin."_

" _He was."_

" _I'm not like him."_

" _I don't believe you to be. You have made the conscious decision to hone your skills instead of wasting your life away. You have hoards of talent. So much, even, that I fear students may be afraid if they knew of your skills. You have a dark past, yes. But your sphinx is still staring up at me. She is able to be conjured because you do have happy memories. You have a heart. You are not like Voldemort at all."_

" _I'll go."_

" _You needn't anymore convincing?"_

" _Non. It's better than staying here. Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing Draco again."_

" _I am glad. But, unfortunately, as much as you will clearly be ahead of your peers, I warn you that placing you as a First Year will be needed. It ruins the Hogwarts experience, I believe, if you skip a few years. Quite honestly, you needn't any schooling at all. Unless all you've studied are spells and Herbology."_

" _Non. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, theory of all branches of magic… But I haven't touched Divination."_

" _Oh? And why is that?"_

" _I rather detest it."_

" _I see." Dumbledore chuckled and watched as Fleur finally dismissed her sphinx and pocketed her wand. "We will need to buy you a legal wand, I'm afraid."_

" _Ollivander doesn't make wands with Veela hair cores."_

" _No, but we may purchase your wand in France where I am sure they do. I will have the wand registered here, however. Your Mother's wand is a fine instrument, but it is not unique to you. Do understand this."_

" _I understand."_

" _Very well. And Miss Delacour?"_

" _Hm?"_

" _I warn you now that your heritage may be…problematic. Your thrall may not work on me, but others will be susceptible to it. Do take care."_

" _I know."_

" _Wonderful. This is the beginning of a grand opportunity for you. Embrace it. I look forward to your progress over the next seven years. And I hope that you make many more friends."_

" _I doubt I will."_

" _Ah… Well, the people we treasure the most have an uncanny habit of stumbling upon us unexpectedly. Young Mr. Malfoy is a fine example of this. I pray that you keep that in mind."_

" _We'll see."_

It made sense… It all made sense… Fleur was never on the Hogwarts Express back to London after final term was over… Fleur conjured a lion-like Patronus in front of Hermione before… Fleur and Draco were such close friends… She resisted the Imperius Curse without any effort that day during Moody's lesson, and the recollection of everything made her so angry to the point of dropping the course for that year. But, of course, that wasn't a problem since Fleur was so advanced that it didn't matter anyway…

And now Hermione's worried, teary eyes were searching Fleur's. They were searching Fleur's for any ounce of regret or a tinge of sadness about the situation…but none was there. Fleur merely bore her eyes into Hermione's, obviously trying to read her. Perhaps she was wondering if Hermione was ready to spring up and leave her, never to return.

So instead, Hermione did the only thing she knew how to do – lay down and hold her. Fleur didn't move, but her breaths came about less often and they were much more shallow than normal. Understanding flushed through Hermione's system, so many questions running along with it. She wasn't sure if Fleur really told her all of that to scare her away, or if she genuinely trusted her.

But Hermione could have sworn that Fleur's cheek on her forehead warmed up considerably, and not on account of the occasional fevers she'd been experiencing. Hermione was mindful of the gesture, careful to give Fleur her needed silence, even though she downright wanted to cry. She wanted to break down because of what she'd been assuming for all these years about Fleur…

"I'm sorry," was all Hermione managed to say after near hours of silence.

Fleur still hadn't moved to put her arms around her friend, nor had she shown any emotion. Hermione wondered if she was too cold; too hardened to do so. It was all so much to take in, even for her… She could only imagine how Fleur had been handling it all this time. And to keep it all bottled up…

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "…I understand so much more now, though… We don't have to talk about what you t-told me… but…just know that I appreciate you _so_ much for trusting me with this… I mean it. I promised you that you could feel safe talking to me…you know that… I won't tell anyone. Promise."

"Hermione…"

"Yes…?"

"I really…think you should leave."

"What? You know I can't and I'm not afraid of you. Now what's this about?"

Hermione shifted slightly to look Fleur in the eye when she didn't respond. She wasn't feverish, nor was she hallucinating. Hermione smiled softly and brushed the hair from Fleur's eyes, fully aware of the delicate, warm sting on the tips of her fingers from the Veela's face. That ever familiar, fluttering haze settled throughout Hermione, calming her while she tried to calm Fleur with her own serenity. Fleur had the slightest tinge of worry in her eyes; the most emotion Hermione had ever seen her in her 'sober' stages. She merely assumed that it had to do with what she'd just revealed about herself.

When Fleur merely continued to regard her without a word, Hermione sighed contentedly, moving her head down to place her lips upon the part of Fleur's forehead that she'd just exposed. It was as automatic as blinking to Hermione, and she didn't think twice about the near shiver she'd received from her lips seemingly sapping the heat from Fleur's face before she cradled her friend's head in her arms and lay back down. The softness of Fleur's sheet of hair served as a wonderful pillow, and Hermione nearly _felt_ the cuteness in imagining Fleur's face barely recognisable from a pair of arms wrapped about her gorgeous head.

Their legs were entwined, Fleur was warm enough to keep Hermione warm, and the younger girl did indeed fall asleep rather quickly that night. But Fleur did not.

Fleur actually laid awake that night, never sleeping and hardly blinking, trapped in conscious nightmares.

* * *

A few nights later, November had finally come, and Fleur was of course lying down in bed. The lack of mobility was beginning to grate her nerves. The lack of control over her emotions was even more annoying. The sweet irony with the entire situation was irking her to the point of fidgeting impatiently while she waited.

Hermione was out for the night, doing rounds with Draco. Fleur had requested that Hermione not bother herself with coming to check on her, and to simply return to her own quarters once her duties were completed. Hermione seemed apprehensive to oblige to Fleur's request, but she promised she would. Fleur winced at the memory of the concern upon Hermione's face just hours ago.

And the wince turned into a frown with a sigh to go along with it when her expected guest came in shortly after and locked the door behind her. Pansy chewed her lip thoughtfully while she walked over to her friend, neither of them making eye contact while she pulled up a chair and sat at Fleur's side. Her dark eyes were narrowed in a deep concentration on her hands which seemed to have a habit of brushing back her locks to occupy her time.

After more awkward fidgeting on both their parts, a long silence passed between them before Pansy cleared her throat, both of them finally looking each other in the eye as she spoke.

"Well… I'll tell you I'm still pretty surprised you need someone to _talk_ to. Not that I mind. You've just kept to yourself all this time, so something's changed. I'm really worried…"

"You're right… I… I don't understand it myself…"

"How about you explain whatever you can? I've got all night."

"All right… Well… I told Hermione about my past, having to do with Draco. I asked him to tell you, and he said he did."

"Yeah, he did… We can talk about that later. But you really told _Granger?_ She ran off, didn't she?"

"No… No…"

"Were you expecting her to?"

"No… I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know…? What's gotten in to you?"

"Hermione…has… Not…not _literally_ but…close to it…"

"Fleur, you're talking nonsense. So, okay, the rest of us aren't thrilled that she's really gotten under your skin, but we still respect her since you do, _why_ I'll never know—"

"She means something to me…"

"She's your _friend_ …"

"No… I… You're my friend. She… I… I _feel_ something _different_ about her…"

"And you don't know what this something is…?"

"It's unknown… But I… I like it… I'm… she's… Pansy, I just—no.. I … I can't even make a sentence…"

Fleur resumed her fidgeting while Pansy gaped at her in shock. That _knowing glint_ was once again in her eyes; the same glint she had when she first noticed Granger's serene indifference towards her and the other Slytherins minus Fleur. Draco seemed to agree with her on the matter as far as she could tell, but they chose not to discuss it for fear of jinxing things.

Pansy privately feared over the situation. She and the others had feared that Granger would claw her way into Fleur's life and take over somehow. It was a petty fear; their only justification for Granger's possible evil plan to cause Fleur's 'accident'.

But regardless if the girl had only the most genuine of intentions, it was still… _Granger._ The Mudblood who only had two friends for damn good reason, and actually considered Fleur to be her third. Pansy scowled deeply and snorted, trying with extreme difficulty to remember that Fleur was trusting her with this and she needed to at least _seem_ impartial.

"Are you into boys, Fleur…?"

"What?"

"Do you like boys…?"

"Like?" Fleur was baffled. Pansy smirked slightly and shook her head; her friend still had some degree of innocence, and it was extremely endearing.

"Have you ever felt _strongly_ for a boy before?"

"No… Do you mean love?"

"Well, yeah."

"No."

"How about for a girl?"

"No."

"For… _Granger?"_

"…no."

"Really…?"

"Maybe…"

"Fleur…now try answering the question. I won't get anal."

"Fine… She… I mean, I told her everything and the first thing she did was hold me. She's perfectly comfortable _being_ like that with me. She really trusts me… She's kind-hearted…something I haven't known in years… And she's so…so b-… b…"

"… _beautiful."_

"…yes. I've been faking my hallucinations all this time, just to get close to her and tell her things that I couldn't bear telling her if she knew it was really me saying it… Pansy, I can't keep doing this… This vertigo or _her_ keeps making me light-headed all the time I've been _blushing_ around her I can't keep track of what I've said under hallucinations or non-hallucination I don't know what's happening to me or why I couldn't stop it and I feel like an idiot and I don't know what to do about this what I feel and I don't even know what it is it's all so new and—"

"Hey! _Calm down!"_

"Sorry…"

"It's just a crush, Fleur… It'll pass…"

"When? Now? It's not passing—"

"Fleur. Do whatever it is you need to do to get things out of your system, and it'll pass. _Trust me._ Granger's not worth the effort, even if she is a good friend. It's bloody obvious that Weasley has the hots for her."

"Ginny?"

"No! Well…maybe. But I mean Ron. I don't even know if Granger likes girls. Hell, I don't even know anything about her and that's not going to change any time soon. If you trust her, then fine. You know we're fine with that. But I just can't see you… _being_ with her, Fleur. Even if she does like girls. You can do way better than her. Everyone practically falls at your feet, you know. She deserves to settle for Weasley."

"How do you know that? You just said that you don't know anything about her."

"Fleur, that's not what I meant—"

"No… No, Pansy… I don't even know why I feel like defending her. It's… I feel idiotic…"

"Well like I said – you do what you need to do to get this to pass. It will. Then you can get back to your own life."

Pansy took Fleur's silence as her signal to leave. She nodded curtly to Fleur and took her leave, and Fleur felt her absence mere seconds after she closed the door behind her. _Feeling_ was something Fleur wished was no longer on her repertoire while she closed her eyes, wary of how warm her face felt. She tried to drift off to sleep, but something continued to nag her while she merely stared at her eyelids, seeing nothing but _Hermione…_

What life did she have before this happened to her? Before _Hermione_ happened to her?


	7. please don't tempt me

_controlling my feelings for too long.._

_and forcing my darkest souls to unfold…_

_and pushing us into self-destruction.._

_and they make me; make me dream your dreams…_

_and they make me; make me scream your screams.._

_~Showbiz by Muse_

_**vii.** _ _please don't tempt me_

_Fleur and friends walked together to the opening in the forest that morning before their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid. She was paying more attention to her footing more than anything, careful to not dig her heels too deep into the soft ground._

_She stroked the spine of her unruly book and opened to page forty-nine as Hagrid asked, noticing her friends follow suit with frowns on their faces. Fleur herself wasn't very fond of the books, or the incessant chatter from everyone else, and her friends seemed to agree while they stood in a group away from most of the class._

" _Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom," Draco spat at Neville who seemed to be having a hard time with his book. Most of the class laughed at the poor boy._

"I _think they're funny," Fleur heard Hermione comment to Harry and Ron on their side of the class._

" _Oh yeah,_ terribly _funny!" Draco chided. Hermione whipped around and tried to look intimidating, but Draco didn't seem to be affected while he snarled right back at her. "Really witty._ God _this place's gone to the dumps! Wait 'til my father hears that Dumbledore's got this_ oaf _teaching classes!"_

_Crabbe and Goyle guffawed while Draco sneered and motioned encouragingly with his head in Fleur's direction, but she merely crossed her arms and looked elsewhere. The rest of her friends laughed loudly with Draco and made low ooh sounds when Harry decided to step forward. The entire class watched the exchange with interest._

" _Shut up, Malfoy," he glowered._

_Draco bounced back from Fleur ignoring him and smirked while he casually dumped his bag to Crabbe and swaggered forward to meet Harry. Fleur nearly whipped her head around herself from Draco's false exclamation, and she felt extreme irritation that the boy was being so insensitive to her with his joke._

" _Dementor, Dementor!" Draco cried, pointing behind the Gryffindors. They all turned around fearfully, only to be rewarded with the sight of trees and Earth. Fleur folded her arms and felt her eyebrows crease in annoyance from the Slytherins' laughter and all of the Gryffindors frowned and scowled at the emerald-crested students._

_Hermione dragged her friend away from Draco and everyone else cackling with their hoods over their heads, making ridiculous ghost-like noises and stupid gestures with their hands in their direction. The look Hermione was giving Fleur once she and Harry were back on the 'Gryffindor side' of the class was one of disgust, as if she were expecting her to do something about her idiotic friends._

_Before Hermione could scowl her face off anymore from the Slytherin cackles and Fleur's obvious unconcern about her expressions, Hagrid coughed loudly and cleared his throat, motioning towards their subject of study for the lesson. The winged creature immediately gained everyone's attention and held its head high, flapping its wings about proudly._

" _Isn' he beautiful?" Hagrid beamed to the class. Draco grimaced and Hermione managed a small smile while Hagrid fed the creature a dead ferret. "Say hello to Buckbeak!"_

" _Hagrid…" Ron began carefully, "exactly wha' is that?"_

" _Tha', Ron, is a hippogriff. First thing you wanna know about hippogriffs is that they're proud creatures._ Very _easily offended. You do_ not _wan' to insul' a hippogriff. It may jus' be tha las' thing you ever do. Now!" Hagrid clapped his hands expectantly and turned to Buckbeak, smiling broadly. "Who'd like teh come 'n say 'ello?"_

_Harry, who was clearly very enraptured with the creature, merely stood rooted to the spot while the rest of the class except for Fleur backed away. The two were suddenly at the fore of the lot, and neither of them noticed. Harry was still dealing with his own shocked amazements and Fleur had started observing her nails, arms still folded over her chest._

" _Fleur, Harry! Well done you two, well done! But I only need one for tha momen'. Which of you'd like teh go firs'?" Hagrid asked happily, completely thrilled that his two prospective best students were so eager to participate._

" _Uh…" Harry began uncertainly. Ron tried to push him forward, but Harry shook his head and stammered back. "Fleur can go…" Hermione shot Fleur a venomous look when Hagrid beamed and nodded to the quarter Veela while everyone else looked at her expectantly. Draco looked rather perplexed, however._

" _All righ', Harry. Fleur, tha' okay with you?"_

_Fleur unfolded her arms and merely shrugged, giving her nails one last look over before Hagrid ushered her forward. Hermione's intense gaze faltered somewhat, actually showing a bit of concern for her supposed rival while Fleur walked confidently to Buckbeak, a safe distance away, her black robes billowing at her feet. The rest of the class looked on with interest while Fleur recalled what she'd read about hippogriffs._

_Before Hagrid could say anything, Fleur kept her gaze on Buckbeak's face while she bowed deeply to get the creature's attention. Hagrid smiled approvingly at Fleur's learned grace and her attitude about the subject. She stood at a ninety degree angle, completely still, fringes shimmering in the bit of sunlight peeking through the woods and shielding one eye invitingly while she bored her eyes into Buckbeak's territorially curious ones._

_The hippogriff seemed stilled by the calmness, or coldness in Fleur's gaze. Most of the Gryffindors and Slytherins behind her where whispering excitedly, completely amazed by how composed Fleur was. They'd all heard about her encounter with the Dementor on the train, and some were murmuring amongst each other about that. Draco blanched and felt a knot in his stomach while Blaise coughed indiscreetly and elbowed him lightly. Hermione, too, paled upon the recollection. Fleur nor Hagrid seemed to be able to hear the whispers, however._

_Buckbeak finally faced Fleur completely and put one claw forward before gracefully bringing his wings in and bowing courteously to his newest friend. The rest of the class continued to watch, eyes widening impressively while Hagrid smiled broadly and fed Buckbeak another dead ferret._

" _Well done, Fleur!" Hagrid nodded to her while Buckbeak ate his treat and Fleur stood and regained her poise, licking her lips while she watched the silver-feathered creature devour the animal. "Righ'. I think you can go 'n pat 'im now."_

_Fleur pursed her lips; she had no idea where the thing had been and really wasn't all that keen on finding out. However, she'd done this much so she decided to go all the way. She treaded carefully over to Buckbeak, more mindful of her heels not sinking in the ground than anything. Once she'd walked a reasonable distance, she held her hand out and slowed down. She could practically hear everyone holding their breaths in anticipation while she stopped, waiting for Buckbeak to come to her._

_Buckbeak seemed intrigued by her nails while he bowed his head slightly and observed them. He walked slowly over to Fleur, and Fleur made more careful steps towards him, the two finally closing the distance between them while Fleur placed a hand over his beak. Buckbeak crooned delightedly while Hagrid and the rest of the class, even Hermione, clapped in relief and cheered._

_Fleur allowed herself a smile, feeling a slight change in her own demeanour. Hagrid traipsed over to the two while the class settled down, Fleur finally starting to feel in her element while she continued to pet Buckbeak._

" _I think 'e may let yeh ride 'im now," Hagrid declared nicely while he got closer to Fleur._

_Draco widened his eyes, admonishing Hagrid for suddenly picking Fleur up by the waist and settling her right at Buckbeak's wing joint. Fleur was unperturbed by the motion, unlike Buckbeak who squawked in protest from the sudden weight. The proud creature tried to adjust to the weight while Hagrid walked behind Buckbeak, warning Fleur to not pull out his feathers while she took a deep breath, completely forgetting that she was still smiling. When the Gamekeeper slapped Buckbeak's behind to get him going, Hermione and Draco took note of this more than anyone else in the class did._

_Fleur bit her lip excitedly and kept her grip on Buckbeak while he lifted his torso and claws in protest to the pain, prancing forward soon after and building speed at an alarming rate while the rest of the class walked after the two in vain. More and more sunlight began shimmering on them both, dazzling Buckbeak's feathers and Fleur's sheet of hair nicely while it flew behind her._

_Dust blew in their wake, Fleur's robes billowed behind her comfortably, and a pleasurable surge of adrenaline built inside of the Slytherin. A strange, wonderful feeling that she'd never felt before consumed her right when Buckbeak finally extended his gorgeous wings and began to take off to the skies._

_The excited cheers of her classmates slowly echoed into nothingness while she and Buckbeak were sent soaring, first just above the trees of the woods and edging higher and higher right over the castle. The feeling of the wind almost pampering her face and the thrill of such heights below her made Fleur smile broadly for the first time in years._

_Two even rows of sparkling whites greeted the morning skies while she nearly felt the muscles on her face burn. Hearing Buckbeak's wings flap at her sides, holding on to his warm feathers and neck, and seeing Hogwarts from such a perspective was invigorating. They flew in between towers, over the roof, higher and higher so that Fleur could see the bright silvery expanse leading out to the Scottish lakes with ease._

_Heavy clouds and peeking rays of sunlight were her only limits while Buckbeak led them higher above the greenery and the castle. Fleur nearly felt all of her worries and troubles left behind on the ground; she never thought such a feat to be possible. Feeling happier than she'd ever felt in years was yet another impossibility to her just moments ago._

_She was astounded at the beauty of the grounds that she'd never noticed before, most especially not until Buckbeak began to fly out to the shimmering lake and down closer to the surface. The sheer largesse of everything surrounding her was simply remarkable; even hearing Buckbeak's claws drag about on the surface of the water made her grin even more._

_Fleur felt powerful in the air; she felt in control, even if Buckbeak was guiding them. Seeing their reflection in the water while she sat upright to achieve maximum thrill was eye-opening. There was a whole world in her own surroundings that she'd never experienced before. Being confined to the ground for her sixteen long years secluded her; the air was where she belonged. An escape, a safe haven, a sanctuary; she found it all in this unknown source of pleasure that had been surrounding her for years._

_And while they continued to pass over the surface, the greens and greys and rays of sun heavenly poking through the clouds, Fleur finally let go of her forced control over herself. Her mind was free, her hope for life renewed, and her joy was overwhelming her so much that it hurt. Fleur actually let loose and hollered as loud as she could, empowered by her release, and laughed to the winds as loud as she could. It was like flipping the world off and showing the skies that she could be happy. She was showing the world that she could bounce back, even after all that had happened to her, and finally_ feel _for the first time in years…_

_But she was sorely disappointed when Buckbeak began to gain altitude again and turn back in the direction whence they came. It ended far too soon, really. Still, Fleur enjoyed the ride while she could and sighed in relief while the adrenaline began to leave her as Buckbeak circled the trees in the woods and found an opening in which to go through to begin landing._

_Buckbeak finally started to lose momentum and leaned back while he flapped his wings to stop himself just before he touched ground, Fleur's ears actually warming up to the class cheering and praising her performance while she and her new companion pranced away to come to a stop. Hagrid beamed and boasted his praise to the both of them, Hermione even adorning a small smile while she clapped politely as the large man went over to Fleur and Buckbeak to help the Slytherin off._

_Draco was feeling very sour, noticing Hermione who was clearly impressed, and snorted while he went over to Buckbeak. Hagrid was facing away from him while he set Fleur back on safe ground, the quarter Veela missing the air dearly while she regained her posture and smoothed her robes and hair. She felt her winning smile relax while her excitement deflated, neither she nor Hagrid noticing what her blond companion was up to._

" _Well done, Fleur," Hagrid whispered to her while she smiled lazily up at him. "How'm I doin' on me firs' day?"_

" _Wonderful, really," Fleur said, her voice lilting subtly enough for Hagrid to smile gratefully; everyone knew it was quite rare for Fleur to smile, and he felt especially honoured to have gotten her to do so._

" _Yeah, so you're not dangerous at all are you?" Draco snarled while he continued gallivanting towards Buckbeak. Buckbeak faced the boy and spread his wings in warning, but Draco continued to prance forward while Hagrid and everyone else could only look on in shock. "You great ugly_ brute!"

" _Malfoy…" Hagrid started worriedly, but it was too late; Buckbeak had already been insulted and the sneer on Draco's face quickly turned into a look of fear while the rest of the class screamed and shouted at the hippogriff's rage._

_Fleur observed calmly, biting her lip while her eyes flashed in knowing at Draco who promptly received a slashed arm thanks to Buckbeak's claws. The boy fell to the ground, moaning and whining in pain while he clutched his arm and Hagrid rushed in front of Buckbeak who was still going mad._

_After more intimidating and flying dust from not only Buckbeak raging about and Draco rolling around on the ground but also from the class scurrying away, Hagrid managed to lure the creature away with a dead ferret._

" _Ohh! It's killed me!" Draco cried. Fleur folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "It's killed me!"_

" _C-calm down! It's jus' a scratch!" Hagrid said, uncertainty washing his features while he merely watched Draco._

" _Hagrid!" Hermione said sternly while she rushed forward. "He_ has _to be taken to the hospital!" Hagrid nodded fearfully and bent down to pick up Draco._

" _I'm the teacher, I'll do it!" Hagrid got hold of Draco and carried him back to the castle, even with the boy still moaning and squirming about, taunting Hagrid and his 'bloody chicken'… "Class dismissed!"_

_The sound of Hagrid's diminishing footsteps and Draco's whimpering fluttered through Fleur's ears while she inadvertently looked around and noticed Hermione looking at her. The girl was torn in between regarding her with praise or scowling at her for clearly not being worried over her best friend's injury. Fleur was still grinning somewhat, finally smiling noticeably when Buckbeak went over to her and patted her cheek affectionately with his beak._

_While Fleur resumed petting her new friend's beak, she looked away from Hermione and over her head to the skies, occasionally smiling softly at Buckbeak while she wondered how to take advantage of what she learned about herself that morning…_

* * *

Hermione was sitting alone in the Gryffindor Common Room that night two weeks later, sitting in her favourite spot by the fire while Crookshanks was curled up on the hearthrug. She was busy staring off at that same corner of the room where she'd changed her mind about Fleur. After her usual routine of reviewing for finals in a couple of weeks' time, her mind was tired and yet still racing so much. Just hours ago, she went to the Hospital Wing to meet with Madam Pomfrey in her office about Fleur's progress.

A part of her was wondering why she couldn't pinpoint her reaction to what she'd just found out.

" _Well Miss Granger," Pomfrey began after she finished reading Hermione's notes, "I am glad that you've managed to watch over Miss Delacour with as much care as you have. Might I ask personally how you think things have been progressing? You needn't keep the topic solely on her health."_

" _I suppose health-wise, I'm quite worried.. She seems to be worsening…. I was expecting her to be worse off at the start and improve from there, really. I'm just very confused as to why the exact opposite's been happening…"_

" _That's very curious, since you noted here that she's been hallucinating often. I thought I managed to cleanse her system more fully, so I'm quite concerned. What she's been hallucinating is also interesting."_

" _Err…yes…" Hermione said uncertainly, pulling at her fingers while Pomfrey merely continued to regard her impartially. "I-I did go to the library yesterday and I managed to read up on hallucinations. Fleur would never act like that with me, and I'm sure she's probably somehow frustrated by the lack of recollections about most of her time spent awake."_

" _This may be true. However, I'm still worried at how frequent she's been hallucinating, and that all of the events seem to relate to each other."_

" _But you warned me that the hallucinations would be spontaneous," Hermione said diplomatically._

" _Spontaneous, yes. But not so_ frequent, _Miss Granger," Pomfrey reminded her calmly. Hermione made a face and shook her head, silently feeling overwhelmed by the explanations soaring through her mind. "And you also mentioned that she has not been behaving like herself. Fevers are not symptoms of vertigo, as I'm sure you read."_

" _Yes…" Hermione considered this and bit her lip, choosing her next words very carefully. "But I'm sure she's just confused. I mean, yes, she is my friend now somewhat thanks to this, but Fleur isn't the_ shy _sort."_

" _Hmm." Pomfrey regarded Hermione warmly, not quite understanding where either of their mind frames were going with this. "At any rate, I've went and checked on her myself. I will check on her again tonight to make sure that she's on schedule for being ready to start her physical therapy soon. Really, Miss Delacour has been doing quite well. Her memory and hearing have not been adversely affected by this. Something else may be at work here, but from what I've garnered, I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Why don't you ask her when you see her again?"_

Just as Hermione shook her head lightly and blinked to try and compose herself, she noticed Ron lumbering over to the staircases. She immediately called his name and he froze, swallowing before he went over to sit with his friend. Hermione smiled as best as she could, wondering why he was acting so strangely. She was simply glad for an excuse to stop wondering and wondering about Fleur, really.

"Why the long face, Ron?" Hermione asked evenly. He wasn't looking at her.

"Well…maybe I could blame it on your memory," Ron mumbled, finally making eye contact with her.

"Um…well, I'm sorry I can't seem to remember what it is I've forgotten," Hermione confessed, looking thrown. Ron clenched his jaw and scowled slightly.

"Gee, thanks. I really appreciate you completely forgetting my asking you out."

Hermione slapped her hands over her mouth and gaped at Ron, the recollection of that evening finally rushing back to her in full force. A flood of everything attacked her; the events that happened from that night on flushing her and making her remember how her mind had clicked right to Fleur. That had made everything change from then on, and even now she could hardly consider how inconsiderate she'd been to Ron.

After a second of reprimanding herself, she tried to remember that she needed to say _something_ to Ron. But for once she couldn't think of anything to say. A powerful part of her was still overly worked up about Fleur and everything that she may or may not have found out about her that night. It choked her up to the point of tears, and Ron widened his eyes upon seeing Hermione's eyes glistening considerably while she tried to speak to him.

"Ron… I am _so,_ so, so sorry… I'm a _terrible_ friend! You should j-just…yell at me… Shout if you need to… Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"No, Hermione… no, I don't need to yell… you're cryin'… besides, I figured you weren't interested if you didn't even bring it up…"

"I-I know… I've just been so overwhelmed with…everything…"

"Look… I pretty much got over it. I have been kinda mad with you always gone 'n Harry leavin' me most of the time for Ginny, but it's no big. I'm fine about it, so don't feel bad. Harry's a little peeved at you but he'll come around. But what've you been overwhelmed about…? That's not like you… I guess ever since you've started takin' care of Fleur you've been kinda different."

"H-how do you mean…?"

"Well…for starters, all you talk about is 'er… An' whenever we have breaks you go see 'er. You always eat really fast during meal times so you can rush off to go take care of 'er."

"Ron, I… She's just such a great person… I really admire her now that I've taken the time to get to know her. Besides… a part of me still feels so guilty for doing this to her. I don't know… I'm just…worried about something else now."

"An' what's that?"

So Hermione went on to explain what she and Madam Pomfrey discussed earlier, not feeling embarrassed at all to divulge to Ron exactly what Fleur had been hallucinating about. Granted, Hermione was fully aware of how purple in the face he was at certain intervals, but he was still a good listener nonetheless.

After keeping everything to herself for months, spewing everything out was automatic, but she was still careful to keep the details of her past quiet, only divulging vague hints. She trusted Ron and still felt an unconscious need to redeem herself in his eyes by giving him a solid reason for her forgetfulness about his feelings.

It was even harder for her, it seemed, to explain to him her sentiments about how she felt about the matter. Nothing seemed to make any sense, no matter how she tried to word things. Ron felt more comfortable listening and not offering any advice quite yet, feeling quite self-conscious about his skills with the matter as it was.

"It just doesn't make any sense!" Hermione repeated for the fifth time that night, feeling completely flustered. "Fleur must be ridden with something else! I can't imagine how her hallucinations have been so bad lately, even though they kind of seem to follow each other. You remember that night I told you she said that she lost her heart? Well the next night she started examining my eyes, claiming that she was still looking for it. I don't understand it, Ron."

"Well… how did it make you feel?" Ron finally asked, the question having been on the tip of his tongue for what seemed like hours now.

"I don't know… I just went with it every time and I wasn't even thinking. It was like we were having a conversation. Every time I responded to her or did as she asked, I really wasn't aware of anything…it felt so natural."

"I dunno, Hermione… I'm not sure how her hallucinations keep linin' up with each other. Maybe she just has a mind of 'er own whenever the vertigo gets to 'er…?"

"No…" Hermione shook her head and chewed her lip in frustration. "But now that I think about it, I think I did feel a little less than _natural_ whenever she'd have me do certain things. Well, all of the time, really, I'd feel this…sort of… _spark_ inside of me? I don't know… It's entirely too frustrating!"

"Uh…a spark…?"

" _Yes!_ Yes, a spark. A haze, a lull; whatever. But I'd always just written it off to flattery that _some_ part of Fleur trusts me like that."

"So then she does have a mind of 'er own when she's like that."

"Oh, I… Ron, really, nothing's making any sense…"

"Sorry I'm no help…"

"No, no…don't blame yourself. I'm still sorry as well."

"It's all right, Hermione… But hey, are you comin' to the Quidditch game on Saturday? We're playin' 'gainst Ravenclaw—"

"No. Fleur needs to start her therapy at the end of the week according to Madam Pomfrey." Hermione flared her nostrils while she closed her eyes, feeling the heat of frustration consume her while she stood up. A strange part of her was irate that Ron had suddenly changed the subject, even though she knew she was tired of speculating. "I'm going to bed. If you see Harry before I do tomorrow then tell him I'm sorry. I'll explain everything to him. Good night, Ron."

"'Night…" Ron called out quietly while Hermione nearly stormed up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. He sighed and Crookshanks finally took the opportunity to make himself known, scampering over to Ron and uncharacteristically curling up on his feet. Ron swallowed and winced at the part-kneazle. "I don't understand her sometimes… Well, all the time, really… But maybe she's bein' thicker than I am with this…"

* * *

Fleur was alone in her room that night; Madam Pomfrey had left just moments ago after coming in to check on her. To her own surprise, she was standing at her bedside after taking a bit to walk around. The pain in her head was gone, but she felt dizzy and weak instead of searing pain now that she was up. Her pride refused to let her believe that she was incapable of walking without Hermione's help in a few days' time. Now she was looking at her bed, her eyes cold and the imaginary vapour swirling in her narrowed lids. She was surprised at what she was able to do in merely ten or so minutes after the nurse left.

Her chest was heaving up and down while she observed her ripped sheets and duvet. Her nails were tingling painfully while she remembered nearly ripping them clear off her fingers when she picked up various books and threw them at her mirrors her posters the ceiling and the floor. Her normally pristine hair was tousled and irritated; her very _blood_ was irritated and near the point of explosion within her very veins.

Everything in her room was either ripped or broken; a very fitting state of her own mind and body and everything. Everything but her heart was that way and she hated how warm and _tingly_ it was even with her completely angry at everything. Everything was nonsensical; nothing was right, everything was left and she hated what was left around her and she hated everything. Everything kept reminding her of Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione Hermione HermioneHermioneHermione _HERMIONE; EVERYTHING_ WAS _**HERMIONE!**_

Her claws reached down and grabbed the duvet, nearly shredding it to pieces when she sent it flying from her clutches and over to the books, glass, and parchment covered floor some feet away. Her body told her to collapse on her bed, her face buried deep in her still in-tact pillow while she rolled and thrashed around, tangling her weak and still somehow adrenaline-filled body in her half-ripped sheets. For the first time in years, she wanted nothing more than to cry in someone else's arms even if she hated the person for making her feel this way.

And cry she did while she shouted and snarled and gasped sharply for air, feeling too violated. Fleur felt _violated_ that Hermione had spun her so out of control; the euphoria only lasted so long before she realised that she didn't want anything to come out of the stupid crush she had. But even then, her deep, sick, twisted curiosity always got the better of her, even if just for a moment, and made her fantasise and daydream and pine and moan because a quarter of her _knew_ that this very feeling was her very being.

The snaps and shifts of her personality and wants and needs made her do this, and she was tired of _needing_ to clutch on to her feelings and keep them in control. Controlling her feelings was getting old, one part of her soul said. But the darkest part of her soul unfolded and made her feel such a high and a wonderful _feely_ feel about Hermione that she damn near wanted to explode every time. It wasn't just a _crush_ or a _phase_ or a _twinge…_

What else could she do other than think about Hermione while she could only be stuck to the confines of her room? She lay on her back and smashed the bed beneath her with her fists, wary of digging her fingernails too deep in her palms but not caring anyway. Over and over she kept smashing her beaten bed, sick of the prison she was in and sick of how easily she could be pushed over the edge. All she _could_ do in her room was think and think and think about Hermione; her first everything. No one and nothing could ever compare to her and Fleur knew it. But the insanity was absolutely horrible and mind-boggling and self-deprecating that she just wanted to shout her feelings to the world in hopes of making it all go away.

Her blood pressure was rising at an alarming rate and breathing was very difficult to come by. The tears had slowed down somewhat, but she knew that she couldn't stop whatever it was she was going through.

There was no chance at escape. Hermione got what she wanted in every way possible. Hermione won. Fleur lost. The game was over and Fleur could only hang her head in defeat while she either tried to hide her overpowering feelings or make Hermione drink her own venom somehow. But since when did she buy into the idea of this all being a game? Didn't she like Hermione so because the girl was so _kind_ and _gentle_ and _understanding?_

A façade? A falsity? A lie? A scheme! No one could click so easily… But Fleur did. She was right then. She'd calmed down and was catching her breath, damn near smiling because of how wonderful she believed Hermione to be.

"So beautiful… So beautiful… Hermione, you're so beautiful… I can't…just sit here and look… I need to…taste…feel…own…conquer…"

And then… Fleur began to giggle. She rolled over and buried her tear-stained face in her sheets, laughing to the darkness and ignoring how idiotic she felt for being yanked and ripped about so easily from the mere panorama of Hermione.

What was even better was that her friends didn't understand at all. Draco was positively disgusted, Pansy finally showed her true colours and expressed her disapproval, Blaise merely made a face, and the others were silently grossed out in their own ways. It was perfect! Everyone approved of her feelings for Hermione except for Fleur and Hermione themselves! Friends…friends?

She didn't have any friends anymore and she never did – the only one who could ever understand her was Hermione. This tiny detail brought a cataract of more understanding and justification for her feelings, but she was confused as to why she couldn't deny how much she genuinely may have _needed_ Hermione in her life.

The giggles soon turned into shouting and more thrashing, her thundering heartbeats began to nearly rape her chest, and yet she knew that every other heartbeat was saccharinely sweet and warm for Hermione. It didn't make any sense…

And why did she suddenly hate Ron Weasley so?

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron, Harry, and Ginny while she explained to the latter two exactly what had been going on. She knew that Ginny had been giving her the concerned friend eye, and Hermione was beginning to feel horrible for neglecting her friends for so long. After being so consumed with Fleur, it was hard to even remember that anyone else existed sometimes.

To her delight, Harry and Ginny understood and didn't give her a hard time. The ones who _did_ seem to be giving her a hard time all of a sudden were Fleur's friends who had stopped giving her the possibly false respect act and went back to their normally scathing personalities. Hermione merely scowled at them and kept going, but Ginny took the moment to comment on this while they were on the subject.

"So what _is_ the deal with Malfoy and everyone else?" she asked scathingly, noticing the looks the emerald clan were giving Hermione. "They were being cordial to you just the other day."

"I honestly don't know," Hermione said impatiently, "it's like they expect me to even _care_ about why they're acting so differently from one day to the next. I really don't."

"You sure about that?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's kind of weird don't you think?"

"Really, Harry," Hermione droned, "as if I have nothing better to do than to give a care about ferret and his cronies."

"They're Fleur's friends too, y'know," Ron pointed out unhelpfully. Hermione scowled at him and took a large bite out of her toast.

"She doesn't seem to think that," Hermione clarified, still frowning. "She never talks about them. And when she does, it's usually always negative. Like how immature they all are, except for Blaise. I get the feeling they really aren't her friends, and it really bugs me."

"What, you think they just hide behind her to have a name for themselves?" Ginny asked, a very distinct tinge of rage in her voice. Harry and Ron nodded in agreement while Hermione pursed her lips and sighed.

"Most likely," she concluded.

"I wouldn't put it past 'em," Ron chimed in. "'Sides, I think they're just jealous that Fleur finally _has_ a real friend."

"Probably…" Hermione trailed off, feeling thankful for Ron's choice of words. Harry smiled.

"You know, when she gets better, how about you invite her to hang out with us?" he offered. Ron turned whatever he was about to say into an obvious cough and Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. Hermione lit up slightly.

"I think that'd be wonderful. But I did tell you she's a bit guarded. I know she doesn't care about the whole House rivalry thing, but I'm just worried about Malfoy complaining to her if she did."

"Well, from the sound of it she doesn't even like him," Ginny said. " _Or_ any of her other lackeys."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione sighed. "But I'm still rather concerned about her."

"You mean the hallucinations?"

"Yes… I mean, I did tell you how she supposedly oughtn't to be experiencing them so frequently."

"Well...there's no real way to pinpoint how an illness affects someone, you know. Don't think into it so much."

"Yes… yes, I suppose you're right, Ginny… Anyway, we really ought to be heading to class. It's about that time."

"Right." Ginny nodded to the Trio while the four of them stood up. "Don't think on it too much, Hermione."

"I'll try not to," Hermione offered with a smile while they left the Great Hall, ignoring the Slytherins.

"Good," Harry added. "See you later, Ginny."

Ginny smiled at Harry one last time while Ron went a ways ahead, leaving only Hermione to see the couple give each other a chaste kiss before Ginny went one way and Harry caught up with his friends. For some reason while Hermione walked with Harry and Ron, she couldn't fight how she felt a slight sting from seeing the two kiss. Not that she hadn't seen them do it before, no. And she wasn't jealous of them at all.

Or maybe she was. Jealous that they simply had each other. She could have had that if she told Ron yes, but she knew she didn't want that from him if she'd gone so far as to forget his declaration. But the delusional part of Fleur wanted that of her. The thought made her stomach flip and churn strangely, but she merely shook it off while she continued on her way to Charms with Harry and Ron.

That night, Hermione and Fleur were sharing a bath yet again. Chocolate bubbles, dampening hair, entwined legs and a simple conversation was between them in the torpid room while they chatted mildly about things. Hermione seemed to be talking more than Fleur, but it was something they'd grown used to over time.

"Honestly." Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at Fleur who was merely regarding her calmly. "Ginny and Harry've kissed plenty of times. I don't know why I'm just now jealous over it."

"Do you fancy Ginny?" Fleur asked casually.

"Fancy?" Hermione chuckled and shook her head. "No, Fleur. And since when do you actually use British terms?"

"Am I not allowed to?" Fleur raised her eyebrow and smiled charmingly at Hermione for the first time ever. Hermione felt her face flush while she blinked rapidly and shook her head, but Fleur noticed. Noticed she did…

"Of course you are," Hermione replied neutrally, "you're just rather _French,_ is all."

"Mmm…and what's that supposed to mean?" Fleur began to twirl a lock of her damp hair absently between one finger while Hermione studied her very carefully.

"I mean _look_ at you… Your nails, your accent, your room, your choice of clothing, how you carry yourself… To be honest when I first saw you I thought you looked very out of place here. Regardless of how… _mature_ you were, and still are."

"You're right. I suppose I've just now started to become accustomed to the culture here. You're probably the only one here besides myself who understands a word of French."

"I wouldn't be so quick to assume…"

"You learned your lesson, I see."

Hermione swallowed and mulled over Fleur's words as meticulously as she could muster while they stared at each other. Fleur was still looking at her calmly, not at all looking like she held a double meaning underneath her accented lilt. Hermione also noticed that Fleur was much _happier_ that night. Her barriers seemed to be down and broken, possibly a sign that she truly did trust Hermione.

But while Hermione was so busy studying, she wondered if Fleur meant that she oughtn't to assume that she was… _flirting?_ No…

"May I ask you a question, Fleur?"

"You just did," Fleur pointed out smartly. Hermione stared at her, rather thrown by the minute detail and decided to rephrase.

"Never mind that…anyway… Do you really trust me?"

"Yes." There was no trace of hesitation in her voice, and Hermione was relieved.

"And how do you feel towards me?"

"Mmm…Hermione, you humour me."

"What do you mean…?"

"What are you really trying to ask me?"

"I just want to know…how you…feel…about me…" Hermione wasn't entirely sure herself what she really meant, but Fleur showed no sign of befuddlement. Her grace was exemplary, really…

"I love you."

Fleur's mouth curled into a lazy smile while she watched the red rise in Hermione's cheeks once more. Perhaps it was just now that Hermione realised _how_ her heart was beating, feeling so overwhelmed with flattery and bliss that Fleur really meant what she said. A giddy part of her may have even imagined herself boiling in the water now, melting into an extremely grateful friend. She tried to muster something to say, the horrifying realisation that she was smiling stupidly at Fleur attacking her.

Instead, she crawled to the other side of the bath and held her friend, fully aware that she was sitting right in between Fleur's legs. Her own were at her sides while she kept her head in the crook of Fleur's neck, closing her eyes contentedly when she heard the water shift one last time before being enveloped in warm, strong arms.

"I love you too," Hermione whispered to Fleur's soft, lukewarm neck.

They sat there in silence for a while, Hermione enjoying Fleur's company immensely while she let herself become swept away in the current of serenity she was in. She hoped that Fleur was right with her, and a stronger part of her never wanted Fleur to let go of her.

Neither of them touched each other further than undressing each other and Hermione carrying Fleur to and from the bath each time. The undressing in and of itself was very… _sensual,_ Hermione had to admit. Something she'd never experienced before with anyone. It was nice…

Feeling Fleur's arms around her bare flesh was just as nice, she concluded dreamily. A night away from her and she'd forgotten the whole reason why she became so caught up with Fleur – she _did_ love her strongly. Hearing Fleur tell her was extremely relaxing and self-fulfilling. Harry and the others had a different kind of friendship with her. But the one she and Fleur shared was so much deeper, even if they hadn't known each other like this for years. There was no need, Hermione surmised. A few months was all it took for Hermione to see how much she really cared for Fleur, despite their rocky past and disagreement of friends and supposed House rivalry.

"Fleur…" Hermione began softly.

"Hm?"

"Is it silly that I admire you so…?"

"No. I just don't see why you would."

"You don't care about things…but the things you _do_ care about…you care for them with all your heart. It must be nice to be indifferent to the things you don't want to be bothered with and be so immersed in what you do want to love."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Really…? But for the longest time you didn't care that I…well…sort of hated you… But now that we've moved past that, you've shown me such a wonderful side of yourself. I really, really appreciate that you're not afraid to be yourself with me. In my experience most people who bottle things up aren't good at letting people in…not for a long, long time anyway…"

"Hermione, I haven't shown you who I am. Don't mix things up."

"What…? But Fleur… I _know_ this is who you are. You're so kind and subdued with me, like how you were outside… I can just tell. Besides, I know Malfoy and everyone else don't receive this kind of treatment from you."

"I am calm with you, yes. And no I don't treat _anyone_ like this except for you. But like I said, you haven't seen who I am."

"Then show me…"

"You're just saying that."

"I'm…not… I love you, you love me…what do we have to hide from each other?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly, Fleur… Exactly… So why won't you show me…? I believe you to be one of my best friends. Truly, I do… I hope you feel the same about me."

"I do."

"I'm so glad…"

"We should get out. You're falling asleep…"

"Mmm…just a bit longer, Fleur…"

But just as Hermione was about to sigh and resume her resting, her eyes shot open and she looked around, extremely alarmed when Fleur picked her up, standing up without any difficulty and carrying her out of the bath. Hermione held onto Fleur for dear life, wondering incredulously how the woman was able to walk all of a sudden and seemingly out of nowhere.

Fleur merely stayed silent and laid Hermione down gently on one of the towels. She quickly went back to the bath to drain it before returning to Hermione to dry her off, quite unaware of the Gryffindor's scandalised staring in her direction. Hermione's heart was thundering madly in her chest, on top of the realisation of how it felt to be in Fleur's position whenever she'd dry her off after their baths.

That in and of itself rendered Hermione incapable of talking while Fleur kneaded her fingertips on her body while she dried her, still so gentle and _strong_ at the same time… The towel was probably as soft as Hermione knew Fleur's feather-tipped fingers to be, and the occasional soft scratch from her long nails made her very aware of her pulse and how fast it was.

Metres of questions about _how_ Fleur was able to stand with her perfect posture even though the vertigo was supposed to cripple her of that luxury vanished when Fleur finished drying the rest of her body and inched the current dry part of the towel right in between her legs.

Hermione honestly didn't think anymore when she did this to Fleur, but now she was fighting back near _excited_ squirms from the sensations and the tiny jolts Fleur's hand kept sending through her system. It was almost as if she were massaging her way up her inner thighs while she dried, finally settling right in between, honing in on her sex.

_No one_ had ever touched her there before, sans towel or not. She felt the truth settle as a very comforting haze right below her heart, the vapour hovering its way up to melt her heart more and more the longer Fleur worked.

It literally was a very long time that Fleur lingered on her sex, Hermione noting herself that no matter how much Fleur tried, her efforts were fruitless – the younger girl seemed to be incapable of being fully dried there.

Hermione was fully aware of how shallow her breaths had become, of how much she was tingling in between her legs, and of how her eyes may have even gone out of focus when Fleur removed the towel, tilting her head to the side in curiosity while she observed. Fleur was looking right at her sex, any ounce of disgust or discomfiture free from her regal visage.

Something was building in Fleur's eyes that were somehow darkened with a strange haze that Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint. Hermione knew she wasn't uncomfortable being so exposed to Fleur, and her eyes knew better than to try and rake Fleur's form.

But it definitely seemed as if Fleur may have been exuding her sex appeal a little more than usual, so much to the point where Hermione felt twinges of the allure. It wasn't overpowering, and Hermione merely blinked and it was gone, leaving her to be consumed in the fire of her own strange passions within.

"Hermione…" Fleur began softly.

"Y-yes…?"

"You're wet."

"No I'm not…you've been drying me."

"I meant in between your legs."

"Oh… w-well… I d-don't quite understand it myself, really."

"Mmm…"

And then Hermione's lungs nearly collapsed in on themselves when Fleur swiftly moved down and spread Hermione's legs apart, her warm, soft tongue making quick work of the bit of heat slicking from in between her and licking it right up. Hermione bucked her hips and shut her eyes while her torso shot up from the counter and she grabbed a handful of silvery blonde silk, a muffled whimper escaping her during the everlasting second that Fleur kept her dexterous tongue on her slick nether regions.

The sensations that flashed through her and the accompanying images that shot right through her mind felt entirely too natural, however unfamiliar they were… A carnal wonder sated Hermione's senses while she arched her back and threw her head behind her, letting a guttural groan exude from her while she let herself bask in the newfound feelings. _Feelings_ didn't even seem to do whatever she felt justice…it was something far more than that…

And Fleur, the sexy beast, inched her tongue up tantalisingly slowly, from the source of the heat to the mound of nerves and staying there, feeling Hermione pulse against her before she pulled away. Hermione immediately felt her body shudder and drown in spasms merely from Fleur keeping her tongue on that one spot, gently brushing a kiss on her sex as she did so…

And Hermione still hadn't let go of Fleur's hair while she slowly opened her eyes. She calmed her breaths slightly while she watched Fleur with breezy eyes, feeling more warmth in between her legs while she studied Fleur's still darkened eyes behind her fringes. Fleur curled her back about in a positively feline manner while she backed away, gently scratching her fingernails down Hermione's thighs while Hermione was forced to let go of the blonde gripped in her hands bit by bit.

The nails felt too good on her skin. Fleur's hair was too soft in her fists. Her tongue was too soft and moist against her just now. The feelings were…strange… Fleur was her first in so many ways that it nearly scared Hermione. But was it a disturbing fear or a fear that she wanted to get used to…?

After more excruciating moments, Fleur was free from Hermione's grip and was already picking her up. Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur's neck, wondering why the swell of her chest felt so comfortable on her waist while she was guided back to the dark room. Replays of what just happened scurried through her mind, nearly sending her over the edge with manufactured jolts and tingles.

She was ripped from her reverie and the security of Fleur's strong arms, however, when the Frenchwoman gently set Hermione down so that she was standing once more. Hermione kept her arms around Fleur's neck while she looked up at her, aware of how much taller Fleur was than her but finding it comforting anyway.

Hermione kept searching Fleur's eyes, possibly darkened with _lust_ while she stood in the line of her gaze. The silence wasn't uncomfortable to Hermione, even if she was uncomfortable with the truth that _earlier_ felt entirely too natural to her. Being with Fleur now and being under the luminescence of her beauty and wonders was the only thing on Hermione's mind while she spoke to her friend softly.

"You…surprised me," was all she managed to say. Fleur laughed gently and eased Hermione's hands and arms from her neck, eliciting a quiet look of confusion from the younger girl. "Did I do something wrong…?"

"No. But perhaps I did."

"Well.. It's not like I'm angry at you or anything. It was just… _different…_ It…felt…very good… And… I don't know, Fleur. I just really wasn't expecting that…"

"But Hermione…"

"Yes, Fleur…?"

"I only did as you asked."

Hermione could only blink, once again quite unable to scrounge up a response while Fleur walked past her, a strong whiff of chocolate sending arpeggios through her senses. She slowly turned and watched Fleur gracefully strut, slowly, back to her bed and put her nightshirt back on. Hermione wasn't sure if she was expecting something else while she gently shook her head, also moving to put her own clothes back on.

So that was who Fleur really is…? It wasn't so horrible, really… Just…quite…unexpected. Considering how Fleur was quite the temptress herself, it was only natural that she was a sexual being. Unless Hermione was thinking into it too much. Maybe that was it…

"But Fleur…" Hermione began once she finished her task, turning to see Fleur settled comfortably under her duvet and giving her her attention. Hermione swallowed automatically and tried to retain her bearings. "How is it that you're able to stand and walk…? I was supposed to help you with the therapy first…"

"You helped me in different ways, Hermione. Don't get me wrong…"

"Do you mean our friendship…?"

"No."

"Then what helped you, exactly…?"

"I'll just let you figure that out. For now, your services are no longer required. You may leave now."

"Wh-what…?"

"You heard me. My head no longer hurts; I can walk and take care of myself – simple as that. And here I thought you were _one_ of the brightest witches of our age."

"B-but… but…!" Hermione sputtered, completely blindsided by Fleur's cold bluntness. "Fleur I thought we were friends. _Best_ friends, even!"

"We are. I'm just letting you know that you don't need to tend to my every whim anymore."

"Oh…" Hermione sighed in relief before staring at Fleur for a little while longer… "You just scared me for a moment."

"Don't be silly."

"S-sorry… but, you're free to formally meet Harry, Ron and Ginny you know… we'd love to spend more time with you."

"That would be nice."

"Okay… okay, great." Hermione smiled and Fleur returned the gesture. Her heart warmed up while she sighed again, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she did so. "Right, well… I'll just…head out…then…"

"Mhm."

"I'm proud of you, Fleur… really, I am…"

"I'm sure."

"Right…" Hermione gave Fleur a coy smile this time while she motioned uselessly towards the door and walked towards it. "I'll just…go now…"

"You weren't expecting me to walk you to the door now, were you?"

"N-no!" Hermione shook her head vigorously and sped up her walk towards her destination, feeling the rush to her cheeks as she did. "No, no, it's no trouble…no trouble at all—"

But when Hermione turned around just before getting to the exit, she found Fleur nearly towering over her, a winning smile adorning her face. Hermione opened her mouth let out a deep breath before Fleur reached past her and opened the door. Another flash of their _moment_ together pranced through her mind, making her realise that she was staring at Fleur. She quickly mumbled some kind of hurried goodbye before hugging Fleur briefly and rushing out the door.

However, no sooner than she'd left and Fleur continued to stand with the door ajar, chuckling softly, Hermione rushed back in and took the Invisibility Cloak from Fleur's hand and thanked her before hugging her again and leaving with the Cloak wrapped about her form. She walked in a hurry out of the Slytherin Common Room and back out to the dungeons, ignoring how loudly her legs may or may not have been crying for her to run back to Fleur's room.

* * *

" _You're_ fashionably late, Hermione," Lavender giggled as her roommate returned that night. Hermione grumbled and put Harry's Cloak away in her trunk while Parvati emerged from the loo.

"Finally," Parvati sighed. Ginny watched the exchange carefully while she sat on her bed. "We thought you'd _never_ get back."

"Since when do you wait up for me?" Hermione snapped, plopping down on her own bed in exhaustion.

"We're just really curious," Lavender commented, "you always stay at Fleur's awfully late. What else is there to do besides feed her and tuck her in?"

"Plenty," Hermione bit back immediately. Parvati and Lavender burst into a fit of laughter and Ginny snorted impatiently.

"Give it a rest," Ginny admonished. The two girls eyed her dangerously and only received an eye roll from the redhead and Hermione. "You two always have your nose too far up everyone's business. We're sick of it if you haven't noticed."

"Oh please." Lavender clucked her tongue impatiently while Parvati lay down in her own bed. "We're just concerned." Ginny and Hermione hardly looked convinced. "Fine! There's just something really juicy going around about you, Hermione. No one knows what it is, but everyone's noticed how you keep disappearing out of the blue what with your duties to Fleur and all."

"Yeah," Parvati chimed in. Hermione merely sighed and pursed her lips at their attempts at getting information out of her. "Come on, spill it! What _have_ you two been doing? I thought you hated Fleur? Come on! _Come on!"_ Parvati's cooing made Hermione groan impatiently, her mouth hurting from scowling but she made no effort to care.

" _Look,"_ Hermione began impatiently, "I've _not_ been doing _anything_ along the lines of what you _think_ I've been doing with Fleur. She's my _friend._ I don't hate her. She's a wonderful person. And if you can't take my word for it then kindly be quiet so we can go to bed."

"Geez, calm down!" Lavender laughed nervously, but Ginny intervened angrily.

"It's true," she began irritably, "you two've been even nagging _me_ for information. She told you the exact same thing that I've been saying all this time. Leave it alone."

"Whatever." Parvati waved a hand dismissively and sighed. "It's only a matter of time, you know."

"Sod off already," Ginny glowered. Parvati and Lavender scoffed and resigned themselves to going to bed while Hermione smiled in thanks at Ginny. The two of them nodded to each other before Ginny lay down and Hermione began to change into her night things.

But now that she was once again undressing partially, she remembered that she was _partially_ lying just now. If Fleur going down on her counted as anything, then it was a complete lie… It was… _difficult_ for Hermione to finish changing and lay back down, but she knew good and well that it didn't mean anything. It was just Fleur being Fleur. If it was more than that, then Fleur would have spoken up. She wasn't the shy type at all.

Despite how _good_ it felt, Hermione refused to let her thoughts linger on that one moment of euphoria she'd tasted from Fleur tasting _her._ But not everyone just decides to kiss their best friend in between their legs while drying them off to get rid of…secretions. Was this any different? But Fleur was a Veela, was she not…? It was just in her nature to be like that… Fleur did tell Hermione that she was the only one she'd ever exposed herself to, and that Hermione was the only one she'd seen exposed.

Hermione bit her lip and tried to drift off to sleep, but the recollection kept stinging her nicely and building a simmer of nerves right in the pit of her stomach. It was one that made her turn on her side and curl up, her face buried in her sheets under her duvet while she shut her eyes. Aside from the random _dreams_ she'd had, never about Fleur, Hermione had no memory of ever feeling this way before. It was almost surreal. But it was _real_ in the sense that she was feeling it. She was feeling it all. The only thing she wasn't feeling was Fleur's warm tongue in between her legs anymore.

After a deep breath and a shake of her head to clear her thoughts, she resumed her efforts of slumber, but they were pointless. Her duvet felt unusually cold on top of her. The memory of Fleur's room was much warmer. The bath was even warmer. But their moment was the warmest… It almost compared to what she was feeling within; the memory was slipping through her hands like water but the feeling continued to stay.

And Hermione realised that night that Fleur may have been the first person to excite her so without any true mental reprimanding on her own part. But she was quite unsure as to whether it was simply flattery or if it was desire and fulfilment that she was experiencing from the memory alone. Uncertainty of Fleur's intentions, her _true_ intentions were clouding her mind, making it nearly impossible for her to sleep.

Hermione sighed and edged from underneath her duvet and out of her bed, mindful of her lessons that day while she walked quietly over to Ginny's four poster bed. She prodded the younger girl, immediately getting Ginny to open her eyes and look up at her worriedly. Hermione merely gestured for Ginny to follow her, and the two walked out of the dormitory and down to the empty Common Room. Hermione was again feeling uncomfortable about how comfortable she was with the matter while she took her favourite chair, Ginny reclining on the couch right by her while she tried to sort out her thoughts and transcribe them into coherent sentences.

"Ginny, I… I think I was sort of lying just now…"

"What do you mean…?"

"Promise you won't tell Harry or Ron or… or anyone, really…"

"Of course. You don't even have to ask. Now what's the matter?"

"Well… Remember I told you that Fleur and I take baths together?"

"Yeah."

"And remember when I told you that Fleur isn't supposed to be able to stand or walk or even move her head at all?"

"Yeah…"

"Well tonight she was suddenly able to stand and walk… We were just in the bath and then she picked me up and carried me to the counter to lay me down on a towel and dry me off."

"So you're all bent out of shape because she can walk now…? I'm guessing she was just practising while you've been in class."

"I'm sure she has, yes…but that's not my problem. I… Well…while she was drying me off, she moved to…uhm…."

"I'm sorry…?"

"Dry me… _completely_ in between…my _legs."_

"Oh…" was all Ginny could say.

"Uh huh…so…well… You see, I couldn't seem to quite stay dry, and…well…Fleur concluded that there was something wrong…"

"You mean you were… _wet."_

" _Yes…"_

"I-I get it… carry on."

"Right…well… Instead of just letting it alone, she… Merlin, Ginny, _please_ don't tell anyone…"

"Hermione, I'm _not._ Just get it off your chest—"

"She licked. Me. And kissed. Me. Down there." Hermione blushed furiously when Ginny sprang up from the couch, completely shocked.

"She did _what?"_

"GINNY!" yelled Hermione and Ginny winced and sat back down, trying to keep the volume of her voice to a whisper.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Fleur _went down on you—"_

"Ginny! _Please!_ I'm begging you—"

"Okay, okay… I get it… but… damn! Hermione! Do you know how many blokes'd _kill_ to be you right now?"

"Ginny…"

"S-sorry… Blimey, though! But that's kind of…well… I'd never count on Fleur to come up with something like that… But you never know, she _is_ part Veela…you know how they are…"

"Sexual beings, yes… But Fleur's told me that she's never let anyone but me see her in the nude, and I'm the only one she's seen…like that… And apparently, I'm the only one who she's done _this_ to if that's the case…"

"Why do you think she did it though…? Veela blood aside…"

"Well I asked her to show me who she really is… She said she did with that _gesture_ of hers…"

"Hmm… And how did it feel?"

"How do you think it felt…"

"I had to ask," Ginny shrugged, grinning. Hermione blushed again and groaned.

"Ginny… I really don't get what it is I'm feeling. On top of the entire castle thinking she and I are up to nightly rendezvous, it's just…confusing."

"You're thinking too much into it."

"I don't think I am…"

"See…?"

"…you're right. Ginny, I just… I've never felt this way before and it scares me.."

"You're not concerned about Fleur being a woman and all of that, are you?"

"What?"

"Homophobia."

"Ginny, I'm not a lesbian."

"Uhhh huhhh…"

"Ginny!"

"Hermione, listen to me," Ginny began sternly, "it's okay if you fancy Fleur. Really it is. I don't blame you. Hell, I may have even fancied her at some point. Probably still do but it's just a little curiosity. Anyone would be curious about her; she's bloody gorgeous. And you _know_ her…intimately. So I don't see why you ought to be so flustered about it."

"No, I don't _fancy_ her." Hermione felt her mouth curl up into a smile from remembering Fleur's unorthodox use of the word and Ginny smirked mischievously. "Ginny, don't give me that look! She's my best friend and I just really care about her. Okay?"

"Mmm, if you say so."

Ginny looked very unconvinced and Hermione stood up, putting her hands on her hips while she stomped her foot on the floor for emphasis. The redhead looked quite unfazed and merely giggled.

"Stop that! The last thing I need to be doing is misreading anything that Fleur does! She'd have a right fit if I told her I had a thing for her. I really can't see herself even allowing herself to be around anyone who feels that way about her let alone shows any sign of it because she's just not that kind of person and she doesn't do well with closeness except for me but that has _absolutely_ NOTHING to do with anything and… Ginny, will you STOP _laughing_ at me for Merlin's sake?"

"Hermione!" Ginny managed while her friend finally sat down in a huff. She controlled her laughter and sighed, shaking her head. "You, my friend, are stuck deep in the closet."

"I don't fancy girls!"

"But Fleur's not a girl," Ginny pointed out.

"Then what is she?"

"A woman." Ginny nodded plainly and Hermione blanched. "A woman who is your best friend. So what if you don't fancy girls or women in general? Fleur seems to be an exception to every rule, don't you think?"

"Well…yes… _maybe."_

"And have you even felt anything for a boy?"

"Not really… I mean, Viktor was just some short-lived infatuation from being flattered that he was so taken with me. I've always been so focused on school. I don't have time for those kinds of things."

"So you're going to grow up alone with fifty cats?"

"No! I… Ginny, I _do_ think about these things but I'm just… it's not something that determines if I wake up every day or not."

"Maybe Fleur should be. I mean, I've noticed that you're a lot happier lately save for when you're frustrated about some things. And these _things_ kind of all relate back to Fleur."

"Well…they do… But you're saying Fleur should be what I wake up for every day?"

"A major thing, yes." Ginny looked entirely serious and Hermione felt her heart warm up again while she wondered about the possibility.

"Is it so strange that I may want that…?" Hermione asked quietly, feeling relieved from merely letting the words escape her lips.

"Not at all," Ginny replied just as softly.

"Is it also strange that I got jealous of you and Harry kissing earlier?" Hermione chuckled at the silliness of her own confession, and Ginny smiled and shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. I think you kind of do want that for yourself. Don't try to assume anything about what either of you are feeling; just see how things go."

"You're right… I'll try my best."

"I'm here if you need anything."

"Thank you so much, Ginny… Thank you."

The two smiled and stood up to return to their dormitory, Hermione feeling a large weight off of her shoulders as they went even with both of them yawning every five seconds. Ginny winked at her as they reached their room, and Hermione took a deep breath and nodded to her before they walked quietly to their respective beds.

As Hermione climbed into her bed and closed the curtains that time, she wondered if it would be entirely too terrible to see where her feelings go. It was quite possible that it was a fleeting thing. But comparing what she felt for Fleur now to what she felt for Viktor seemed like an insult to her best friend. She was worth so much more than that.

Uncertainty rang clear in Hermione's system while she drifted off to sleep, but it was a good kind of uncertainty. There was nothing to assume about Fleur and there was nothing to assume about herself quite yet. However tempting it was to wonder whether Fleur really meant something earlier, she tried to stay away from it. But it was hard.

_Very,_ very hard.


	8. biding time

_the closest to being in control we will ever be_

_is in that moment that we realise we're not._

_~Brian Kessler_

_**viii.** _ _biding time_

_The chatty ambiance in the classroom quickly snapped to one of a sombre silence as soon as the door opened and closed shut. The greasy, poised figure of Severus Snape walked in without looking at any of the brats in_ his _classroom, paying no regard to the questioning looks of horror on the faces of the Gryffindors._

_Black robes and greasy black hair followed the Potions Master in his wake whilst he strode down the aisle of Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts class, flicking his wand about his head every so interval to shut each and every window as he went. Most students were watching him warily whilst he walked to the fore of the class, right by the large white projection screen. Draco and Pansy smirked as the most of the Slytherins watched with glee how Professor Snape did a quick glance about the classroom with his glacially attentive eyes and drawled his instructions._

" _Turn to page three hundred and ninety four." Snape kept the usual brogue in his voice and the students hastily followed his instructions, the Gryffindors exchanging wary glances first. Fleur didn't even look at her book while she sat in between Draco and Pansy._

_Snape noticed Fleur's indifference to his authority but made sure to leer casually at any Gryffindors, namely Ron, who were making slow work of following his orders as he treaded back down the aisle of students. The sound of slowly turning pages and muffled exasperated breaths adjoined his flat soles upon the floor as he walked._

_Harry, the prat, had the gall to try and make eye contact with Snape while he left his book alone and spoke his mind. Snape looked at him as if he had made a dire mistake, though his usual coldness was still about himself while he regarded Harry._

" _Excuse me, sir," was Harry's small attempt at strained politeness. "Where's Professor Lupin?"_

" _It's not really your concern, is it Potter?" Snape pursed his lips momentarily and continued his walk, raising his voice ever so slightly to speak to the class at large. "Suffice it to say that your Professor finds himself_ incapable _of teaching at the present time." Snape reached the podium at the back of the classroom and tapped the magical slide machine with his wand as he spoke a tad louder now, for emphasis and a reminder that this was_ his _classroom. "Turn to page three hundred and ninety four."_

_When Ron appeared to be taking an unusually long amount of time to find the intended page, Snape's mouth thinned while his wand helped the poor boy along a little faster. Ron took a second to realise exactly what page his book was opened to, and widened his eyes considerably in shock and mild protest._

" _Werewolves…?" Ron asked incredulously. Hermione seemingly appeared out of nowhere next to Harry and whipped around to face Snape, her eyes burning questionably at the substitute teacher._

" _But sir, we've just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beings for_ weeks."

" _Quiet," Snape droned, eyes boring dangerously into Hermione's._

_Ron turned about and gaped at her, completely baffled as to when she came in. He whispered his concerns to Harry who looked just as clueless as he while Hermione just now retrieved her book from her bag._

" _Now," Snape continued as the projection began and he walked back to the fore of the room, "which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?" Naturally, Hermione raised her hand, looking at Snape with her usual attentiveness of academia. Snape's back was to her as he continued on, not even looking at anyone else as he walked. "No one?" He reached the projection and slowly turned on his heel, hands clasped at his waist. "How disappointing."_

" _Please, sir," Hermione began, Snape's face falling into a frown while he regarded her. "An Animagus is a wizard who_ elects _to turn into an animal. A Werewolf has no choice. With each full moon when he transforms he_ no longer _remembers who he is. He'd kill his_ best friend _if he crossed his path._ Furthermore, _a Werewolf only responds to the call of his own kind."_

" _Awoooo!" Draco cried mockingly while he turned to face Pansy, both of them sniggering at Hermione's annoyance. Fleur ignored the activity, noting more what Draco was so busy doodling on his parchment with his uninjured hand while Snape spoke with a flat curtness to his student._

" _Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." While the slides changed from a drawing to the proportions of a Werewolf to a vase showing a depiction of a Werewolf and two humans, in profile, the Werewolf eating one man while Snape faced Hermione and slowly began his walk once more. "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger." Hermione scowled at him as much as she could get away with in the classroom, trying to not be hurt by his next words. "Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable_ know-it-all?"

_Snape put a very keen emphasis on his final words and his eyes flickered slightly at Hermione's angry defeat while she directed her gaze downward._

" _He's got a point, you know," Ron whispered to Harry. Neither Snape nor Hermione appeared to have heard him._

" _Five points from Gryffindor." The Gryffindors all clicked their tongues and sighed in protest while Draco placed his note atop his hands, now in the shape of a crane before he smirked thoughtfully and blew it over to Harry, Ron and Hermione's desk. "As an antidote to your ignorance," Snape continued, "hand on my desk, by Monday morning,_ two _rolls of parchment on the Werewolf," everyone groaned but Fleur and Hermione, the latter of whom had a suspicious glint in her eyes after Harry caught Draco's parchment. Fleur simply didn't care, "with particular emphasis on_ recognising _it."_

" _Sir, it's_ Quidditch _tomorrow," Harry fought back while Snape stood not too far from his, Ron and Hermione's desk. Snape made quick work to place his hands atop the desk, his hooked nose practically in Harry's face while he spoke of his dearest sentiments on the mild complication._

" _Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter." Harry surveyed Snape's eyes with a flicker of surprise and modest indifference whilst he listened to the Potion Master's ever meticulous pronunciations. "Loss of limb will not excuse you. Page three hundred and ninety four," Snape repeated when he noticed Harry had still failed to open his text to the asked page._

_The rest of Snape's lecturing was drowned out by Harry who had now opened the parchment, Ron and Hermione looking on with slightly frightened interest while they watched the poorly drawn doodle Draco had made. Harry immediately turned his head to look at Draco questioningly after glancing at it, but the blond merely leered right back at him, raising his eyebrows momentarily for emphasis through Snape's droning. The sneer on his and Pansy's faces contrasted starkly with Fleur's bored visage. Hermione took a moment to glare at her, though her rage went largely unnoticed and only received a snigger from Draco and Pansy. Harry, too, looked at Fleur. But the surprise on his face turned to fear._

_The fear was much more pronounced when he and Hermione turned back to the parchment, a doodle of Harry flying on his broomstick and occasionally being struck by lightning while what appeared to be Pansy continued to throw Bludgers at him and screeching 'HAHAHA!' Not to mention his scar was in the shape of an L.._

_But the biggest surprise was yet to come the following morning at eleven 'o clock sharp._

" _I can't believe this!" Ron bellowed to the winds while he and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor stands in the Quidditch Pitch. "I just can't believe this!" he repeated vehemently, the rain picking up strongly and the wind whipping their crimson cloaks about._

" _They couldn't be bothered to touch base with Wood ahead of time!" Hermione cried, Neville loosing his footing and stumbling on her. He quickly apologised and joined in the conversation._

" _I'm sure Harry'll be fine!" he assured them. "But Dean says Fred 'n George actually looked terrified! Fred! George! Terrified! Not like 'em at all!"_

" _I know!" Ron shouted, thunder roaring dangerously while they continued to wait for the teams to come out to the field. "They've been prepped for Hufflepuff's defence this entire time! I bet you anything Snape had something to do with it!"_

" _Oh honestly Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, "don't go about assuming things! I'm sure there was just a bit of a mix-up—"_

" _A bit of a mix up?" Seamus interjected angrily, "Hermione, this ain't no tiny mix-up! Who cares if she's inexperienced? For all we know she may've been practisin' 'er 'ole life!"_

" _I saw 'er flyin' tha' other day!" Neville added fearfully, Hermione for once unable to even scowl while the boys listened to him earnestly. "I think she may even be better tha' Harry! I dunno 'ow she does it, but she's go' skill."_

" _Who's got skill?" Ginny came and asked, really only to keep the conversation going with her own fears simmering in her stomach like three quarters of the rest of the school._

_Her needless question was answered, however, when the teams finally came out onto the field. The Slytherins were hollering and clapping louder than the rest, their emerald cloaks nearly glowing in contrast to the stark wood of the stadium and the gray rain clouds. The Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and especially the Gryffindors were trying their best to clap for the crimson players, but it seemed difficult. Even Harry looked rather pale; he and many of his teammates were also temporarily struck dumb from Fleur's thrall._

_The only girl to ever be on the team strutted out in her jade and platinum Quidditch robes, right at the fore next to her Captain and Chaser, Marcus Flint. She had her weight on one side, her hip cocked slightly with her knee bent while she dug her black and platinum Nimbus 2001, courtesy of Draco, into the soaked grass underneath her feet. Her russet equipment, including flat shoes for once, as well as her robes, broom, face and hair were completely untouched by the pouring rain. She managed to_ Impervius _herself, something no one else seemed to think of. She had no need for silly goggles either. Fleur licked the outer rim of her teeth, smoothing down her cream pants and observing her shin and arm guards before boring her eyes into Harry's fearful emerald ones behind his goggles._

_Bole and Derrick, the Beaters, looked extremely smug and were grinning wonderfully at Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. Bletchley, the Keeper, was also smirking at the Gryffindor Chasers, as well as the flabbergasted look upon Oliver Wood's face. Montague and Warrington, the other two Slytherin Chasers, were picking up the rear and eyeing Harry dangerously. Flint shifted his smug eyes from Wood to Fred and George every so often, smirking more and more every time._

_Fleur herself was looking passive, Flint smirking and nodding to her before he and Wood walked to the centre ring without cue from Madam Hooch. Lee Jordan was making some strained commentary about the last minute changes in matchups while the teams continued to size each other up._

" _W-well, what with the schedule change and Malfoy's, ahem,_ injuries…" _McGonagall cut Lee a stern look before he shrugged and continued on, "…Slytherin's Reserve Seeker as of just this year, Fleur Delacour, Third Year, takes the spot in a real game for the first time. According to Flint, she'd just become Reserve Seeker not too long ago for her own private reasons… I've heard stories about her flying… Turns out she's just as beautiful as she is skilled!"_

_The Slytherins in the stands cheered and whooped loudly to this, and the rest of the school paled considerably, on top of the bone-chilling rain already. Fleur seemed to embody the intimidation of the Slytherin team, as well as the entire House itself while her hair blew about behind her, shimmering even in the murky weather._

_Hooch gave Wood and Flint the order to shake hands, and Flint took notice with a smirk the way Wood winced at Fleur before the two gripped hands and turned to walk back to their respective teams. Flint nodded to Fleur, who merely regarded him and gave a small nod of her own before turning back to intimidate the Gryffindor team._

_Wood shouted to his team to not give in to the Slytherin's dirty tactics while they mounted their brooms and waited for the signal to begin the match. He gave clear instructions to the boys to not let Fleur's thrall get to them_ too _much, even though he was fighting back blushes and his own lustful stares in her direction._

_There were no cheers of 'Go, Go, Gryffindor!' this match. The only resounding cheers that they could hear was from the Slytherin stands, riling Fleur up and making crude sexual jokes to Harry to avoid accidentally shoving his_ broomstick _anywhere in Fleur's direction. The Slytherin team merely guffawed, Fleur herself allowing a small smirk in Harry's direction, whereupon the poor boy blushed profusely._

_Meanwhile, in the stands, Hermione was watching the exchange fearfully. Ron was purple in the face, not that Hermione noticed, and Seamus, Neville, Ginny and Dean were engrossed in deep conversation about Fleur's skills. They tried to reason that she was very good but they still needed Gryffindor to win. They sounded very uncertain of themselves while the whistle sounded._

_While the teams began to take off and Lee Jordan immediately began his commentary, Fleur averted her gaze from Harry's crimson face to Hermione's fearful one. They held eye contact for a very long time, Hermione completely baffled as to why Fleur singled her out and was staring at her, and why she herself couldn't look away. Hermione was terrified for Harry because she believed the stories about Fleur's skills; she wouldn't put it past the Slytherins to win the match, even if they did cheat. But, perhaps, they could attest at least one victory to playing fairly and winning because of the newest addition to their team._

_The stare continued to last. Hermione tried to narrow her eyes, but it was nearly impossible for her frozen face to move. The rain and wind were more powerful than ever now, and Fleur merely continued to gaze lazily at her. Fleur's azures somehow managed to stand out so much more against the grey skies, her natural grace following her even whilst she sat on a broomstick. The tautness was thick between their eyes, but it was soon smashed by the axe of the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch being released in their own respective places and Fleur was off._

_It took Hermione a very long time to realise that her eyes, binocular-aided or not, never left Fleur during the match._

_Fleur was gripping her broomstick safely, just enough to avoid being knocked off while she gained altitude and began scanning for a mild golden glint. Harry was circling the pitch, his form leaving much to be desired now that he was clearly nervous. He tried to keep his eyes off of Fleur, but it was difficult to not watch in wonder how she could fly as confidently and elegantly as she walked and carried herself on the ground._

_Her body curled about like a cat whenever she turned, or maybe even a lion on the prowl while she, too, circled the pitch, mindful of stray Bludgers that Bole and Derrick were only too happy to keep out of harm's way for her. Her back stayed upright whenever she hovered passively, and whenever she did fly forward her back was all too eager to become perfectly parallel with Draco's broom. The Slytherins were chanting her name like the burly crowd they were, and Harry was thrown by Lee's subsequent commentary and forced his eyes from lingering on Fleur's body any longer._

" _And Montague's scored once more… Slytherin leads forty to nothing," Lee droned sadly. The Slytherins cheered their heads off once more and went back to chanting Fleur's name. "Again, Fleur Delacour is doing wonderfully for her first shot. Dodging Bludgers with ease… her size is just right for a Seeker… Thin and tall for great manoeuvring and aerodynamics… Oh and it looks like Flint's scored this time… Slytherin leads fifty nothing… Gryffindor_ really _needs to pick up the pace here, we're in shambles…"_

_Harry sighed and dodged a Bludger that Derrick sent at him, his eyes darting back to Fleur who was still circling the pitch like a hawk. He thought back to the lesson they had with Professor Lupin and the Boggart. He was extremely perplexed when Fleur's Boggart changed to a Dementor and she actually fought it off with a Patronus Charm._

_Lupin had praised her exceedingly, clarifying to the class that its shape took the form of a sphinx. Beautiful, riddle-ridden and strong – he'd said that her Patronus was such a perfect fit as expected. Naturally, Hermione was furious and jealous of her performance. Harry, however, pondered asking Fleur how she learnt such a spell so advanced but could only consult Lupin for assistance. But it appeared that Fleur, too, had a nasty vulnerability to Dementors._

_Harry found a small connection to the part Veela, and the two began exchanging curt nods whenever they passed each other in the corridors. Hermione sniffed and went on long rants whenever this happened, and Ron would ramble on and on about how lucky his friend was to receive her attention, but Harry had learned to pay his friends no mind._

" _Oh! Fleur seems to have spotted something! Look at her go! Wait… oh, blimey, whatever… Do you see her, you lot? Like a hawk, she is!" Lee bellowed to the audience. The Slytherins hooted louder than ever while the rest could only look on in amazement._

_Harry shut his eyes and jerked his head slightly while he reprimanded himself for his laziness before spotting Fleur's twittering emerald robes and zooming off after her. Malfoy's broom was a notch above Harry's now meagre Nimbus 2000, and he was having much difficulty keeping up, let alone catching up in the first place. It seemed as if Fleur only continued to soar faster and faster, farther and farther away._

_Fleur kept up as fast as she could, at now dangerous speeds while she followed the Snitch. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously while she followed the flittering gold, noting that she may crash into the stands at any second if it kept its course and she couldn't catch it. She wasn't close enough to extend her arm, and only let the adrenaline fill her and speed her up as Draco advised her._

_Her wonderful experience in the air just months ago fuelled her decision to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, even if only as a Reserve player. Flint had automatically given her the Reserve Seeker spot after Fleur's insistence to not take Draco's spot completely. Draco soured slightly and from then on drilled her in the art of flying his broom. He apologised for his antics in Hagrid's class that day soon after, and she forgave him and continued on with her lessons. Brooms could not compare to Buckbeak at all, but it was good enough._

_And the Snitch did indeed lead her right to the stands, only making a sharp change in direction up and forcing her to veer her broom right after it after nearly colliding with Hermione and Neville. Neville had jumped for cover while Hermione only stared on, simply amazed that she was flying so well and Harry still hadn't caught up to her. The almost crazed look of concentration in Fleur's eyes had rooted her to the spot. She didn't even feel fearful that Fleur and the Snitch were making a beeline to her at horrifying speeds. Ron bellowed incredulously at her frozen state but she couldn't hear him; she was too busy keeping her eyes on Fleur's slowly disappearing emerald and platinum robes, her blonde locks fluttering in her wake._

_Hermione swallowed and retrieved her binoculars, her gaze still never leaving Fleur's body._

_Higher and higher in the skies Fleur went, Harry barely on her heel. Her heartbeats began to thunder in a nervous delight from the thrill, the possible win, and even the satisfaction from her House cheering her off in the far distance. Lee's still shrill commentary about her exceptional abilities was even wonderful. A deadly sneer adorned her features while she kept on higher through the cutting rain, almost close enough to extend her arm. She didn't even notice her soaked broom beginning to freeze on the spot while the air began to chill and freeze more and more._

_Harry was shouting something but she couldn't hear; the wind was ripping at her ears comfortably and she didn't want to hear anything else. Even the stunned look on Hermione's face helped to speed her up just a little more, her arm finally able to extend with some assurance that she would soon catch the Snitch. But, again, yet another change in direction made the annoying little twit zoom horizontally behind Fleur, whereupon she immediately stopped and arched her body backwards, quickly spinning about to become right-side up again and zoom right after the Snitch once more. She barely heard Lee praise her flying while she kept following the gold higher again, Harry still shouting and Fleur still not hearing nor caring about what he had to say._

_Her hand was precariously close to being able to clasp the Snitch, nearly any second now, but then she finally noticed what Harry was so busy crying about back there. A large group of Dementors was swarming the skies, flying right after her. She took note of her frozen broom, the water surrounding it having frozen instead of the Imperviused broom itself. Fleur fought back the attacks of screams and morbid recollections threatening to throw her from her broom, still going onward._

_Further and further she went, Harry finally having caught up with her and was urging her back down. She blatantly ignored him, using all of her diminishing willpower to keep chasing the Snitch that he was even reaching for. Her Slytherin instincts were telling her to kick the idiot boy away, but she doubted her multitasking skills at the moment. Her nails were so close to grazing the Snitch that it sent another jolt of adrenaline through her, and yet everything else had such horrible timing –_

_One Dementor in particular became so close to them that it blocked Harry's path, sucking the very life from him and eliciting a loud cry from the boy. His entire body was pulled right with the current of his happiness, diagonally and then downward as he tried to fight the thing and keep going. Meanwhile, another Dementor was doing the same to Fleur, her own frustrated cries filling the air right with Harry's. She finally gave in to the freezing cold and the emptiness within, her broom still going and her nails somehow managing to encroach the Snitch before she and Harry fell from their brooms at the same time._

_Fleur shut her eyes in mental pain from the memories of familial screams and blood tainting her mind, but some part of her still held onto the Snitch. She and Harry continued to fall right through the clouds and biting rain, the wind now cutting her terribly and her mind slowly going blank from shock. She could only open her eyes momentarily right when her body had curled about to have her facing down, the sudden fear of the altitude striking her horribly right with the loudening cries of shock from the school. She saw that Harry was completely unconscious, and before she gave in to the loss of control herself, she and Hermione finally made eye contact once more, the fearful intensity in the girl's eyes somehow sustaining her, even for a second…_

_Well, Fleur joked to herself sarcastically before drifting off, at least Slytherin won fairly thanks to her, even if she was completely frustrated and terrified of the lack of control she was experiencing from freefalling at such great heights…_

* * *

Hermione awoke frighteningly early that morning – five 'o clock. The first thing she noted to herself was that she woke up smiling – not a rarity anymore since her friendship with Fleur began to blossom. She'd gotten a good night of rest really, and she tried to go back to sleep after she'd awoken but nothing seemed to be working. Breakfast wouldn't start for a few more hours, and she made up her mind with a task with which to occupy her time while she got out of bed and washed up for the day.

After changing to her uniform and retrieving her quill, ink, and a fair bit of parchment, she walked quietly down to the Common Room and sat in her favourite chair. She looked out the window and noticed a bit of pre-winter snow already falling in the still dark sky. After subconsciously smiling at that same corner in the room and then at Crookshanks who'd fallen asleep on the hearthrug, she set her ink bottle and parchment on the table in front of her and chewed her quill thoughtfully. She knew they'd understand, but she was simply having difficulty wording her thoughts…

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_How are you? I hope you're both doing well. Classes and things are still the same here, and I've been nearly consumed with prepping for finals in about a week and a half's time. Harry, Ron and Ginny say hello as well. We were just talking about you the other day and so I figured I'd write you._

_I'm not sure if I'll be going to the Burrow for the holidays, but I'm sure Ron and Ginny will invite me along. I know you don't mind but I'll be sure to drop by for a while on Christmas Day and before I return to Hogwarts._

_But what I didn't mention in my letter a while ago was that I made a new friend. Her name's Fleur Delacour and she's one of the few people here who isn't Scottish or English. She's French, actually. I've spent a lot of time with her, telling of what we all did whenever we went on holiday to France. Fleur's in my year and she's a Slytherin. Yes, I know I told you that Slytherin isn't a very friendly House, but she's an exception. For the longest time I didn't even like her because I'd assumed that she was snobby and mean just because of her…appearances. It was horrible of me, I know. But I've learnt my lesson._

_It's funny how she and I became friends, really… She's the one that I've been taking care of because of the flower incident. I didn't mention her name at the time because it was hard enough to tell you both about the huge mistake I made. She isn't angry at me at all, really. We've grown to be such close friends…maybe even closer than I am with the others. I don't think it strange, but a lot of people here do. I've learned to ignore them, though. It's just old hen talk._

_But I really need to tell you something else about her. I mean, for one she's part Veela. Veela are magical creatures, usually women, who are strikingly beautiful and have the ability to use their thralls to seduce whomever they wish. It's a bit annoying for her, I think, that people gawk at her so. I think Ron and Harry are still having trouble with it, but they've gotten much better as far as I can tell. Still…she's only a quarter Veela and yet she's still so gorgeous. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, a bit of a French accent, and she's very intimidating until you get to know her…_

_I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I've taken a strong liking to her. We've become such close friends over time, and I've told myself to just get a feel for how things go between us before I try to pin down my feelings with words. She has no idea how I feel. I'm not sure but…writing this, now, I feel like I want to tell her. I don't think she feels the same way since she's so guarded. I'm afraid of ruining things between us if she gets scared about what I tell her. But then again she isn't the type to scare easily… I don't know. I'm just so confused. I'm not worried that she's a woman. Oh, and… I suppose I should tell you that she's twenty. A lot of unfortunate circumstances happened unto her._

_So now I'm wondering what to do. I know I'm okay now, but whenever I see her I just get this…feeling. It wasn't until last night that I realised it may have something to do with love. I don't think I'm in love with her…not yet. But I'm falling for her, dangerously, and I'm almost positive that she doesn't feel the same way. Well… I'm not sure. I get the feeling that she can do so much better than me. She deserves the best and I'm sure I'd probably only hold her back. But I'm the only one who knows her this deeply… it's frustrating._

_Anyway, before I bore you with any more talk of that, I'll end it here. The Weasleys will be picking me up from King's Cross and I'll be at the Burrow unless I notify you otherwise before term ends. I miss you both terribly and I'm really looking forward to seeing you and the rest of the family on Christmas. Until then._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

After a few careful rereads, Hermione nodded to herself, satisfied with her letter before she wondered what to do. It was far too cold out to go to the Owlery at this hour, but she still had another hour until breakfast began. She collected her things and went back to her dormitory. While she retrieved her cloak, she paused when her eyes lingered on Fleur's Head Girl badge. Hermione smiled slightly and pocketed the badge, making a mental note to return it to Fleur before going back downstairs and climbing out of the portrait hole.

She didn't even notice that she was smiling whilst she meandered the corridors, her mind filled to the brim with thoughts of Fleur. It seemed foolish to linger on what she was feeling for her friend, most especially when she questioned whether Fleur even felt the same way. But she was hit with a pang of _the_ recollection from last night and she nearly stopped in her tracks but instead decided to speed up.

But Fleur wouldn't do that for the sole reason of _drying her off._ Hermione frowned slightly in frustration, but her mouth quickly switched to a grin while she surmised that Fleur was telling her something with the gesture. Hermione most especially couldn't forget how _good_ it felt. The nerves in her stomach were whispering to her that she wanted to feel it again. And again. And again… Again and again and again and again until…

Hermione caught herself and shut her eyes briefly, grumbling to herself under her breath. No it wasn't like her, but she was allowed her own private thoughts. She didn't even notice that she was already outside, the sun now starting to rise whilst she continued to trek to the Owlery. It wasn't that cold out, but it was cold enough to remind her of the nearing winter while she saw the tower not too far away.

She made herself keep her fantasising to a bare minimum while she walked up the spiral staircase, feeling a distinct sting and tingle in her legs while she did. And one _in between_ her legs as well. Hermione bit her lip and tried to continue on, quickly finding a tawny owl and sending it off with the letter to her parents. The smell was getting to become unbearable while she shook her head and scampered out, stopping just as she got out the doorway.

The colours in the sky just over the expansive lake - a rising violet over a darkening yellow… Hermione smiled, her mind already comparing the yellow to the blonde of Fleur's hair. And the blue sky just above the violet was of course Fleur's eyes. There was a very familiar tapping against her chest while she observed. It was warm and all too familiar now. She wished Fleur was there with her, holding her even…

Another pang hit her when she realised that she was still so uncertain about how Fleur felt. But Fleur did _say I love you._ That, her actions, how comfortable she was, the possible _flirting…_ There was no other explanation! It sent yet another uncomfortable jolt throughout her, however, because she didn't want to assume. Assumptions, assumptions… Hermione was growing frustrated once more but still somehow wanted to smile at the end of it all. She needed to ask Fleur. Eventually… For now, she could be content with simply gazing out into Fleur's wonders in the form of colours in the sky. But she could do so much _more_ than gaze and stare. A lot more…

* * *

More time passed during which Hermione did absolutely nothing to act on her feelings. A lot more time passed with Hermione openly staring at Fleur whenever they were with Harry, Ron and Ginny. Fleur was surprisingly friendly with her friends. They'd grown to be Fleur's new bodyguards of sorts from her incessant fan club. The woman was extremely charming with them all, not that Hermione was suspicious. She was simply expecting a little more withdrawal on Fleur's part. Malfoy and everyone else seemed to be making an effort to stay out of their paths and didn't even look at them anymore whenever they were around. Hermione had made a mental note to talk to Fleur about them once finals were over. And she made a note to talk about certain _other_ things; the prospect that she would keep her raging sentiments to herself until that time came was the only thing that held her over.

And now that she was finished with her last exam for the term, all she could do was sit idly and stare at the front of the room while she tuned out the scratching of quills and shifting of parchment. Hermione gathered that History of Magic was not Fleur's strong point when they studied together in the library; she seemed disinterested in it altogether, really. Or maybe it was just the topic that they were reviewing at the time; Fleur couldn't seem to keep her eyes on her book at all.

But now that she was thinking about it for the fiftieth time, something seemed strange about that.

_It was extremely late that evening but Fleur chose to stay and help Hermione review a few finer points for their final tomorrow. Hermione was engaged in her book, reading over the last few pages of the text before asking Fleur any more questions on the topic. But while her eyes were so focused on the words in front of her, she hadn't noticed another pair of eyes across from her focusing directly on her._

_Hermione eventually finished the book and took a deep breath while she looked up at Fleur. It didn't register in her mind that Fleur had been watching her the entire time while they both smiled at each other. Though the curl of Fleur's lips seemed to be rather coy. Her eyes were also lidded and dark again. This certainly wasn't like her…or maybe it was._

" _Fleur, are you all right?" Hermione asked worriedly._

" _I'm fine."_

" _Are you sure? You seem rather tired…"_

" _Fatigue isn't anything to be worried about."_

" _Well it's awfully late… perhaps we should leave. I've read the final chapter plenty of times now and I'm sure you have."_

" _No, only once."_

" _And you understand it just fine?" Hermione appeared to be slightly baffled by this, and Fleur's smile widened._

" _There are more important things to read and understand, Hermione…"_

_And with that, Fleur put her things away and slung her bag over her shoulder. She folded her arms over her chest and watched the questions and hope flicker in Hermione's eyes in the dim light of the library. A very long time passed, during which they could only stare at one another. The slight slack to Hermione's jaw seemed to make understanding indeed run its course in Fleur's mind while she bent down._

_The shifting of Fleur's robes and bag and_ proximity _all seemed to happen at once for Hermione, and it took longer than normal for her to feel her flushed face cupped in both of Fleur's palms. They felt cold for a moment until the warmth was shared with her hands and her eyes. Fleur's smile honestly reached her eyes while she stared into Hermione's that were searching so desperately for something. Anything else… A cue, a clue, a plea, permission;_ anything…

_But Hermione didn't quite know how to read Fleur this way as of yet. She tried her hardest to learn and to master given the limited space and time that they had before Madam Pince shooed them out. The slight tug that Fleur was exerting on her face, towards her, should have sent signals off… But the signals were muffled and awry because of how much they were busy setting her hormones off at the moment from Fleur's increasing closeness. Her back was curled about in that same manner, the glow in her skin was becoming more and more apparent, and the fine details of the hair covering her eye were becoming clearer. But Fleur's intentions were not, especially when she angled her face to the side and slid one hand down Hermione's neck on the same side._

_All Hermione felt was cold slipping down her flushed skin. Like ice;_ molten ice _their skin touching skin had become between them while Fleur moved her mouth to Hermione's ear. Hermione could almost hear every other tiny sound in the air combust into nothing while Fleur's naturally more perfect figure came to take their place. Hermione never wanted her to leave; the place was hers and she was all too willing to let her have it for as long as she desired. But Hermione wondered what was brewing between her moistening ear and Fleur's lips now._

_She realised with a horrible pang that the nail of Fleur's thumb was residing on her throat in such a way that she could feel her insane pulse. She slowly registered the everlasting scent of chocolate, parchment, and the tiny smell of her thrall. Did it really have a smell, Hermione wondered… But the wondering was smashed to bits and left her with nothing to think about except for soft, perfectly uttered letters and words in the shape of Fleur's deep voice._

" _You're looking too hard… Try again when you aren't trying so hard to find something."_

" _I'm… Fleur, you—"_

" _Do you know what one of the hardest things about life is…?"_

" _No… what…?"_

" _Having words in your heart that you can't utter… Usually it's just better to act on them than to try and make sense of them so soon… But how do you act on them…? How…"_

_Words were stymied inside of Hermione; an internal flutter was fanning too much of a good thing and rendering her useless. All she could do was feel Fleur breathe in her ear and caress her face and neck with her thumbs. There was nothing Hermione could analyse because she didn't want to. She was acting on what her heart was telling her, and it was screaming loudly for her to close her eyes and feel. It shouted and yelled from the very depths of her being and warmed her so much with the explosion of sounds in such confines of her body. There wasn't enough room for what she was bottling inside of her; she_ needed _to share it…_

_But there was so much noise inside of her. So many words and impulses and cheers and doubts and memories of her and Fleur together that she didn't know what to do with herself… Instead she merely sat there like a fool and stared even while Fleur held her hand out to her. Hermione came back to reality soon after and hurried to put her things away. After slinging her bag over her shoulder, she took Fleur's hand and let her friend, just a friend, walk her back to the Gryffindor Tower like she did every night._

_Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on this walk. Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on walks on the grounds, Hermione only managing to feel confident talking about the weather and classes. Fleur even always held her hand in the hallways whenever she'd walk her to class. People stared and people_ knew, _but only people could see the out of place smile on Fleur's lips whenever they walked together. Hermione was always so busy thinking and thinking, convincing herself to wait until term was over before jumping to any conclusions. Fleur often told her to loosen up but Hermione would always be so caught up in her mental discipline that she didn't know how to go about doing that._

_Even now, walking so close to Fleur and feeling her hand that was slightly larger than hers clasp her own…it was difficult. Difficult to keep up with the discipline and to let her worries and fears and doubts cloud her in a more reprimanding manner than a manner that she simply couldn't help but worry and fear and doubt. But tomorrow was the last day of term. Tomorrow was the final string of the web of hesitation she'd woven for herself._

_She couldn't even ask Fleur to go to the Burrow with her and the others, but Ginny was only too happy to ask her along. Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell anyone but Ginny, who passed it on to Harry and Ron, that she'd written Mr. and Mrs. Weasley countless times, telling them about Fleur ahead of time, just in case. Of course Fleur obliged politely. Such poise, such strength, such will of character…_

" _I'm surprised," Fleur said gently after some time._

" _By what?" Hermione asked airily._

" _You haven't mentioned the weather or classes this entire time. Or anything else for that matter."_

" _I just have a lot on my mind…"_

" _Yes, I've noticed the change in you. But I figured it wouldn't be wise to bring it up unless you said something first."_

" _Oh…" How considerate of her… Hermione smiled just as they walked up the last staircase to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I… I'm just worried that I'm_ reading _things incorrectly."_

" _You seem quite literate to me, Hermione," Fleur mused._

" _What…? N-no! No, Fleur… It has to do with you."_

" _Mmm…what about me?"_

" _I'm trying to wait until term is over before I try and tell you."_

" _You're trying too hard."_

_They had stopped and were standing in front of the portrait for a long time, Hermione merely staring up at Fleur and trying to memorise the shape Fleur's hand took in hers before they let go. Fleur made an attempt to let go, but Hermione gripped a little harder for some ounce of support. The russet of their surroundings was contrasting so starkly with Fleur, easily paling in comparison to her figure. Fleur's smile was creeping down, finally settling into a neutral expression while she eased Hermione into a parting embrace._

_Hermione finally let go of her hand to hold her properly, burying her face in Fleur's neck to at least taste her warmth and aura with her skin for as long as she could. At this rate Hermione feared that Fleur suspected what was going on and was tactfully trying to avoid it._

_But the assuring squeeze she received suffocated the thought. Fleur's hugs were always something of great value to Hermione…and she didn't want to risk losing that luxury. There was just something about the way Fleur's strong arms fit the contours of her body so perfectly. Even the kiss on her head was perfect; a key and lock to the warmth that she'd been deprived of on this level her whole life…_

_And the hug was over far too soon when Fleur pulled away. Fleur always pulled away first. It always stung when she did but only Fleur was aware enough to realise that time was ticking and they had other things to do except for hold each other. But Hermione wondered if Fleur could sense this whenever she'd look into her eyes just before they had to go their separate ways. The assuring smile Fleur would give her seemed to say enough. And Hermione received one just like all of the other ones, except this one seemed slightly more encouraging than anything before she turned to walk back down to the dungeons. But Fleur never looked back, only adding to Hermione's confusion…_

_And it was all of this combined that would make Hermione rush to her dormitory, shut her curtains, place a Silencing Charm on them and curl up in bed while she cried herself to sleep every night._

* * *

Like clockwork, Fleur was waiting for the Trio, or really only Hermione, to emerge from History of Magic class once they were out. Her face was set and her arms were folded until she spotted Hermione; she immediately lit up considerably while she towered over the mob of students going to the Great Hall for dinner before their trek to Hogsmeade Station.

Hermione couldn't seem to manage a very genuine smile while she felt her body float over to Fleur, her legs seemingly out of order as of late whenever the woman was around. Harry and Ron greeted Fleur brightly and she returned the salutations before embracing Hermione and taking her by the hand to walk to Ginny's classroom.

The other three knew that Hermione was biding her time. Hermione could have sworn that she walked in on them concocting some devious schemes to get her and Fleur together, but no one had any solid proof that Fleur's feelings were any more than extremely friendly. It was something they knew was bothering her to no end, and it was all she could do to not let it interfere with her schoolwork. But now that school was generally out of the way save for homework over the holidays, she was running out of excuses to find out anything _more._

Once they met up with Ginny, the five of them all walked to the Great Hall, everyone but Hermione taking note that Fleur had opened the double doors to let Hermione in first. She walked right inside, still in a daze, not noticing the eyebrow raising going on behind her and Fleur. She wasn't sure if she should go back to preparing her speech or to sit down, which Fleur was waiting for her to do. Hermione tensed slightly and did so while Harry, Ginny and Ron sat opposite them.

"So which test did you write last, Fleur?" Ginny asked conversationally while they all began eating.

"Charms," replied Fleur evenly. "It wasn't terribly difficult."

"I heard you're rather good at it."

"I suppose you could say that, yes."

"Is your Patronus still a sphinx?" Harry asked interestedly.

"I don't know," Fleur shrugged. "I haven't conjured one in a while."

"You should try when we get to the Burrow," Ron commented, "and maybe play some Quidditch at that."

"Maybe," Fleur said dismissively.

"Ah come on! At least we know you're good! Not like Hermione who never plays with us."

"She keeps claiming she's no good at flying," Harry laughed, "you should teach her, Fleur. We haven't had any luck."

"Perhaps," Fleur said just as dismissively.

"And you should teach her something else, too," Ginny said cryptically.

"Like what…?"

"Hmm… I don't know!"

"You don't know, hm?"

"Nope!"

"Interesting," Fleur said flatly, shrugging it off.

And yet Harry, Ron and Ginny noticed the crestfallen expression still on Hermione's face. That seemed to increase their drive tenfold for getting involved in things like the _caring_ friends they all were. Fleur didn't seem to notice their eyes all on Hermione and was instead mumbling under her breath about the food.

Even Fleur's dismissive attitude about everything was endearing, thought Hermione. That was her number one sign that she had it bad.


	9. adorable

_don't hold something in your arms_

_that you could never hold in your heart._

_**ix.** _ _adorable_

_A contented rise to Fleur's lips was upon her face while she sat in the Slytherin Common Room; a rare event, both the former and the latter, especially the former considering that Hermione wasn't anywhere near her. While she was busy sitting on one of the emerald couches, listening to the crackling of the fire reverberate off of the dungeon walls and ceiling, she just so happened to be surrounded by most, if not all of the students in her House._

_Many had been casting her questioning glances, clearly wondering about the reason as to why she was hanging with such a shifty crowd for the past two weeks. Her posse in particular was sitting on the couch directly across from her while everyone else crowded the Common Room. Her old chums were looking rather sour, except for Blaise who was rather indifferent as per usual. Everyone else appeared to be deeply interested in what she had to say, considering how Draco rallied everyone to have this informal meeting the evening before the last day of term._

" _So what the hell, Fleur?" Draco finally asked. Fleur's smile didn't falter at all and the boy soured even more. "I'm sick of being quiet about this and we all deserve answers! What makes you think you can defile us like this? Potty, Weasels, and Mudblood over us? Over me? Potter still trips over his feet whenever you're around, Weasley can't even afford a thread of your clothes, and Granger's got fucking self-esteem issues! Haven't you noticed?"_

" _If this is about you then why did you make everyone come down here?" Fleur asked casually, letting his other accusations and questions simply roll off of her._

" _This_ is _about me but it's about this bleeding House too! You never gave any of them the time of day but now that Granger's your new…_ best friend… _you choose to dilly dally with them? I can't believe you!"_

" _So you're just bitter," Fleur concluded calmly. Draco tensed considerably and stood up, confirming Fleur's suspicions. She merely continued to sit and smile placidly while he nearly exploded in rage._

" _This isn't funny, you traitor! How_ dare _you keep smiling at me like that! So I am bitter, all right? I just thought you'd have more sense than this! Why Granger, even? Why? Why did you let her… why'd you let yourself… why… this is about that, isn't it..? I can't believe her… That… that filthy bitch is messing with your mind—"_

_Collective gasps were heard when Fleur swiftly stood, swaggering slowly over to Draco to tower over him while everyone looked on. Even the grossed out looks on her old friends' faces switched to ones of complete horror. Draco tried to keep his ground, seeing that Fleur was still smiling. He turned that on her, assuming that he still knew his friend while he continued to gloat with a proud grin upon his face._

" _Yeah, that's right! I called her a filthy bitch. What're you gonna do, Veela girl? Hit me? Yell at me? Kill me, even, since she means so bloody much to you? There's nothing you can do or say that'll make me see you the same way ever again, I hope you know that._

" _So I don't give a damn what you do to me – I'm going to do whatever the hell I want from now on. You've changed._ She _changed you for the worse. You chose her over me? Me? I was your only friend for five fucking years, Fleur! FIVE! And I_ was _your best friend for seven years after that! Nearly twelve years! TWELVE! And you pick that Mudblood whore over me? How DARE you!"_

" _You hate her because of her blood and the House she's in and her friends; really all of which she had absolutely no control over. That simply disgusts me, Draco. And yet for years you promised me that you wouldn't walk out on me over anything because of all we've been through. Don't try and accuse me of being the O Unholy One. You've changed, I've changed, she's changed – I don't have to answer to anyone."_

" _B-but you'll answer to her!"_

" _Yes, I will. She's the only one. And do you know why, Draco?"_

"… _you love her," Draco whispered, only audible to Fleur. His grin fell into a fear-filled frown and Fleur's smile dissolved into a very deep scowl._

" _You're exactly right." Fleur bored her eyes into Draco's, burning away any defiance in his gaze. He flinched at the sheer determination in her voice, finally faltering to her command._

" _I can't believe this…"_

" _I love her," Fleur murmured to him for emphasis, her scowl never leaving and the fear ever growing in Draco's face. "I love her," she repeated, "and nothing you can or cannot say or do or believe will ever change that."_

" _She's trapped you, Fleur… How could you…? How could you let her do this to you? You… You don't need her… You don't need anyone but me… But us… I grew up with you… You're like an older sister to me… I've always looked up to you and now you throw this in my face…?"_

" _It just_ happened, _Draco. And I'm sorry that you can't accept it but your friendship is no longer something that I need or want if you refuse to support me."_

" _Why her… Why Granger…?" Draco looked absolutely defeated and slouched his shoulders, looking down. Fleur felt no sympathy for the boy while she spoke at large to everyone in the room._

" _Hermione," Fleur said sternly, "is my best friend. I haven't felt love for anyone in nearly twelve years. She doesn't hide behind me and use my presence to try and intimidate other people. She doesn't insult people because of qualities that they had absolutely no control over like blood or wealth. She's the kindest, most self-sacrificing person I've ever been blessed to meet. I'm sure that even if I did something she couldn't_ believe _that she'd stand by me. Hermione actually keeps her_ promises, _Draco. You didn't and now I'm walking out of your life."_

" _How the fuck do you know she's going to keep her word?" Draco snapped, but immediately flinching again when he noticed the disgust and fury simmering in Fleur's eyes. She'd gotten so close to him that he could see every tiny detail of the rage in the blue of her eyes and hear every bit of the malice in her voice._

" _She doesn't do things to other people every day that makes me question her word. You're putting Slytherin pride and honour above me."_

" _Those sodding Gryffindor idiots don't_ have _any pride or honour! WE do! And… And…"_

" _Slytherin pride and honour is based on an old, prejudiced tradition that needs to be thrown away. Purebloods don't run anything anymore and Voldemort," everyone flinched at the name, even years later, "is dead, need I remind you. I never had it, not that you were even attentive enough to notice. Hermione used to hate me but now that's changed. I'm completely fine with that. You can take her place now if you'd like."_

_Fleur made an effort to scowl deeper for effect, and Draco winced while she looked around at everyone else's still shocked faces. "If any of you give her a hard time then you_ will _answer to me and you will_ not _enjoy it. That goes for Ron, Harry and Ginny too. Just leave everyone alone for that matter. If they do something to you, fine, get in their face about it. But if it's just because their_ existence _makes you want to scream and vomit then you need to do something about yourself. If I hated you all because I thought you were underneath me I bet you'd be upset. So don't do it to anyone else,_ especially _not Hermione. Am I clear?"_

_No one hesitated to nod to her in acknowledgement. Even Pansy and the others did; they'd never seen Fleur actually use her authority in such a way. Her radical words burned everyone but they knew better to oblige than to face the part-Veela's wrath. Draco seemed to be on the verge of furious tears but Fleur was clearly unaffected by it; her comment about taking Hermione's place stung him more than anything and she knew it._

_Fleur looked down at Draco's blond head once more before snorting and attempting to leave, but he mumbled some indiscriminate disagreement. She folded her arms and bent one knee while she continued to stare at him, not at all liking his shame and defeat._

" _So does this mean we're through?" he mumbled sadly._

" _You won't accept Hermione. So, yes, we're done. Get back to me if you change your mind."_

" _I won't."_

" _I didn't think so."_

" _She's a disgusting little wench."_

_Draco looked up triumphantly upon hearing nothing but silence traipse through the room. But the smouldering look in Fleur's eyes melted his glee away and made it harden into a very cold, if not freezing disappointment that was determined to forever stay plastered on his face. Fleur still felt nothing for him anymore, and he was baffled as to why she wasn't defending Hermione. Absolute grief that he'd lost his only real friend in the world to one of his worst enemies was crippling him but Fleur did not care._

_She_ really _didn't care…_

" _She doesn't deserve you. You can do so much better than her…"_

" _Hermione is, and forever will be better than me, Draco. I thought… Oh, I'm sorry – you wouldn't know that."_

" _Goddamnit, Fleur! What the fucking fuck? She's disgusting! And she's GIRL if you haven't noticed!"_

" _Jealous now, are we?" Fleur smirked playfully for a moment and burned him nicely, making him blush furiously before she went right back to scowling at him. The realisation finally hit everyone else in the room that Fleur really_ did _love Hermione like that. Fleur was well aware of the confirmation but didn't care at all._

"… _she's filth."_

" _She's quite adorable, actually." Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously at Draco and he faltered. He received the final blow and hung his head again, barely able to look her in the eye anymore._

" _So, what Fleur?" Draco asked hollowly. "You gonna hit me now? Hit me for betraying you and insulting your little bitch?"_

" _Mmm… And wouldn't it hurt more if I didn't…?"_

_Draco could only gape at Fleur's retreating figure while she left to her quarters. The fear on everyone else's faces had turned into a modest admiration for her; they all surmised that it did hurt him more that she hadn't overreacted or gotten violent with him even though she had every right. Even if she was a lesbian, in love with Hermione of all people, it was because she was_ Fleur _that she was able to get away with it._

_Fleur held the command that she did for damn good reason, and people would follow her orders to the end of the planet. Even if her beliefs were outrageous to them and influenced by her love for one of the biggest enemies to their House, they knew better than to defile her. Their respect for her far outweighed whatever they believed, even if it was extremely hard for all of them to swallow. They'd get over themselves in time. This was exactly why Dumbledore chose her as Head Girl and Draco knew it._

_Needless to say, Hermione had garnered a sizable portion of respect and command herself that night that would soon spread to the rest of the castle in the morning._

* * *

Hermione and Fleur conveniently had an entire compartment to themselves for the entire train ride; they'd entered the one that they were currently in and Harry, Ron and Ginny seemingly ignored that they'd done so and merely continued on after Ginny shut their door. Nine hours was indeed a long time, but neither of them could complain.

After a while of talking about classes, Hermione telling stories about the Weasleys while Fleur secretly tried to commit all of their names to memory, and a change of clothes, Hermione had reclined in her seat with her back against the compartment wall, facing the window, and Fleur didn't hesitate to take the opportunity to lie on top of her. Crookshanks had immediately jumped to curl up on Fleur's waist, and Hermione had laughed at this when she wrapped her arms around Fleur's body.

Fleur's head was situated in such a way that she had fairly comfortable pillows and could easily hear an insane tempo of heartbeats while the two continued to talk quietly as night finally came. She was thoroughly enjoying Hermione's absent tracing of light patterns across her white cashmere jumper and seeing their jean-covered legs entwined; Fleur's were black and half covered with a pair of white leather thigh-high boots and Hermione's jeans were a safe blue to match her plain jumper, and black trainers. Crookshanks had fallen asleep, and Fleur was very near the same point from listening to Hermione's shallow breaths while she tried to keep talking. Her voice wasn't helping at all to mask what Fleur could hear so easily, but Fleur chose to be polite and not point anything out quite yet.

"Fleur…?"

"Hm?"

"You never did tell me if Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins have been pressuring you about…"

"About you."

"Well, yes… Me, Harry, Ron, Ginny… I'm sure they're all rather upset and you do have to see them every day…"

"Hermione, I need you to understand something that I don't think I've ever made clear before.. You are very dear to me. You're the only person I've ever really cared about in a very long time. And… _thank you_ for helping me. With my vertigo. I never did thank you."

Fleur couldn't see the expression on Hermione's face, but still took the opportunity to explain what had happened in the Slytherin Common Room the night before, careful to leave out the part about love and everyone knowing how she felt about her best friend. Fleur knew it was foolish that the entire castle was bound to have found out by now, except for Hermione, but she had the whole holiday to sort things out. She didn't know what the deal was with Ginny, Harry and Ron but she was hardly bothered to care. She was even less bothered by everyone else knowing of her feelings, even weakness, for Hermione.

When she was finished, they continued to sit in a comfortable silence. Fleur took her turn to begin tracing patterns at random with her nails across Hermione's hands when the younger girl had stopped. Fleur watched Crookshanks hover up and down with the rise and fall of her waist from breathing, smiling at the recollection of their conversation about him; apparently she'd bought the part-kneazle because no one wanted him. Hermione had lit up considerably when her pet quickly took a liking to her friend. And her tales about S.P.E.W. were even admirable. It was all such wonderful validation to her; Fleur felt absolutely no qualms with Hermione knowing that she'd defended her to her entire House, and to Draco's face no less.

"You really are adorable, you know," Fleur admitted softly. "You _really,_ really are… I care about you deeply…in a way that I've never cared for anyone before. Not Draco, not Pansy, Blaise – none of them can ever compare to you. They've all loosened up for the most part except for Draco, but even if they didn't I wouldn't care."

Fleur kept quiet, not wanting to say any more lest she suffocated the poor girl. She was probably still in shock from her story even though there was still so much more to say. Fleur instead inched her head in such a way that she could look up at Hermione's face, even if it was upside-down. Despite the orientation and the new pressure she knew she was placing on the swell of Hermione's chest, her face flashed to a concerned look when she noticed how pained Hermione's appeared to be. Fleur rose her eyebrows just enough and in such a way that only seemed to make things worse.

"Hermione…?"

"I'm sorry… I r-really do appreciate what you did for me, Fleur.. I do… I'm… I… _Thank you.."_

"You're welcome. But I don't quite understand why you're so…upset. Does this have to do with what you need to tell me?"

"Y-you still remember?"

"Yes." Fleur looked completely serious and Hermione relaxed somewhat. "I remember everything you say. And I believe in all the things you say as well. I promise I won't get upset no matter what it's about. Now what do you need to tell me?"

"I… Fleur, I just… It's.. _difficult_ to say… it hurts to even _think_ about it.. I'm… I _want_ to tell you but it's just so hard…"

"You told me to not bottle things up. But I won't pressure you." Fleur was actually rather oblivious to any possibilities of the topic that Hermione so desperately needed to speak of. "You worry me, though. I hope you know that."

"I'm sorry.."

"It's fine," Fleur said truthfully, "just don't worry yourself sick. You're always so quick to help everyone else but you're a bit of a masochist sometimes… I don't understand it…"

With that, Fleur gave Hermione a small smile before turning her head to one side and dozing off for the remainder of the ride. The gentle rocking of the train and even Hermione's unsteady breathing helped her with ease, however unaware she was that Hermione was breathing that way because she was crying. Crying and nearly cradling Fleur, as it was.

Oh Hermione…ever the masochist…

* * *

Fleur was unaware of how it felt to leave the Hogwarts Express and to return to King's Cross; she'd always Side-Along Apparated with Professor Snape back to London to do her shopping for the new term. Once she'd gotten her license she was able to Apparate on her own, of course.

It most certainly felt different to walk alongside Hermione on the Platform, narrowing her eyes slightly from the steam and ignoring the stares they both received while the clicking of Fleur's boots rung nicely in their ears. Fleur wasn't holding Hermione's hand because Hermione was busy carrying Crookshanks in his cage, seemingly unaware of nearly everyone staring at her. She was worried about Hermione still, especially since she was being unusually quiet now. Even when she'd graciously shrunk their luggage and pocketed it all, Hermione merely thanked her without her usual smile. Fleur sighed quietly, and Harry, Ron and Ginny eventually found them and they continued on their way. They were saying something but she couldn't really hear over all of the chatter on the Platform.

Fleur merely kept her head held high, barely having brushed her hair running sideways over her eye before she was pulled in by some strange force and smothered by a pair of arms belonging to someone of much shorter stature than she. Fleur was about to react violently, but she soon heard a round of laughter and she noticed multiple heads of red hair and smiling faces surrounding her when the person nearly breaking her bones finally let her go. Fleur looked down at her with a slightly bemused expression quickly realising that this was Ron and Ginny's mother that Hermione had told her so much about. After a few more seconds of taking in the woman's warm, motherly smile and feeling a very distinct pang, Fleur remembered that this was practically Hermione's surrogate mother, so she needed to behave appropriately.

"You must be Fleur!" Mrs. Weasley beamed, "it's so wonderful to finally meet you! Oh we've heard _so_ much about you!"

"Have you really?" Fleur was extremely confused, but showed no sign of it while she gave the Weasley matriarch her trademark charming smile. Mrs. Weasley smiled even more, if possible, and moved on to embrace Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione each while her husband spoke.

"But of course!" Mr. Weasley said brightly while he looked up at her, shaking her hand fiercely as he did. Fleur chuckled when he finally let go after an unusual amount of time. "And we've only heard the _nicest_ things! We're so glad to have you staying with us."

"Right we are," Fred and George said in unison, grinning from ear to ear while they surveyed Fleur unabashedly. Mrs. Weasley cut them a stern look when Fleur merely glanced at them, still smiling and rolled her eyes, unaware of the way Hermione's eyes had started observing her face and manners as she did.

"It's nice to see you again Fred, George," Fleur said curtly, nodding to them both.

"You remember us?" George exclaimed.

"But of course. You were always _trying_ to give me a hard time when I was a Prefect."

"Hah, would'ya look at that!" said Fred. "I didn't think you would remember."

"Well, I do."

"We'll keep that in mind," George winked at her. Fleur rolled her eyes again, her smile still upon her visage while she lazily still commanded the attention of the entire group surrounding her, still not noticing Hermione floating awkwardly at her side.

"Dear, what _are_ you doing?" Mrs. Weasley asked her eldest son who was rudely standing in the background. She pulled him forward immediately.

"Bill, is it?" Fleur asked before Mrs. Weasley could say anything. Both of the Weasleys looked slightly surprised, Bill only managing a nod. Hermione smiled ever so slightly from Fleur's efforts.

"Hullo," said Bill with a broad smile, clearly noticing that Fleur was as tall as she was charming; she nearly reached his own stature and matched Ron's who was just behind her.

"Pleased to meet you." Fleur regarded him warmly, wondering why on Earth he was acting so strangely without the _faintest_ idea as to why.

"Now, we'd best get a move on," said Mrs. Weasley, "Fleur, dear, aren't you cold with just one jumper?"

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley. It's cashmere," Fleur commented. Mr. Weasley observed Fleur's jumper with fascination while Mrs. Weasley smiled and nodded in understanding, the twins sniggering at the Frenchwoman's nearly outlandish fashion sense. She appeared not to have heard them.

"Kashmeer, really?" Mr. Weasley asked while they began to leave the Platform to Apparate near the Burrow. "Do Muggles wear it?"

"Yes, they do," Fleur replied coolly, while she walked at the fore of the group in between him and Hermione.

"My, my, how simply fascinating!"

"I remember Hermione telling me you have an interest in Muggle things," Fleur remarked conversationally.

"Yes, yes, I do!" Mr. Weasley looked beyond flattered that Fleur had retained information about him, and Hermione allowed herself a very small smile. "Interesting they are, Muggles. I'm afraid I'm not terribly skilled in their ways but I try!"

Thus the rest of the trek to a safe area to Apparate and the brief walk to the Burrow was spent with Fleur being bombarded by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the twins with topics of conversation, Mrs. Weasley of course making sure that Fleur had eaten and that she _really_ wasn't hungry. They seemed to regard her slight accent, the way she walked, and even her casual gestures with interest; she was clearly French to them. Fleur held the conversations with ease, never forgetting to smile and never forgetting to make sure that Hermione was right next to her to see her smile.

There was just something rather alluring to Fleur about knowing that Hermione was pleased and above all impressed with how she held herself, especially with the Weasleys. She knew that if Hermione was going to be in her life that the redhead clan would have to be as well. And Fleur wasn't faking anything in the least; she was genuinely glad to be around a real family for once and away from the stifling castle walls of Hogwarts for the first winter in nearly seven years.

* * *

Once they walked in the kitchen, Fleur lit up from finally seeing the interior of the house she'd heard so much about. It was extremely homey in the way that she'd imagined it considering her impression of the Weasleys and what Hermione and the others had told her. Mrs. Weasley instructed Ron to show Fleur to her room, Charlie's room, as Charlie agreed to room with Bill once he arrived for Christmas.

Fleur was deeply intrigued by the magical wooden home, noticing the mix of Muggle and Wizarding knick-knacks about the house. The grandfather clock in particular was of great interest to Fleur while she took a moment longer to glance at it while Ron explained the mechanism in a bit more detail while the twins, Hermione, Harry and Ginny followed them.

She noticed that, even at this late hour, the hand for who must have been Percy still said 'work'. Ron mumbled when they were out of earshot to not mention Percy around Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur nodded while she noted that all except for what was probably Charlie's hand said 'home'.

"She bursts into tears every bloody time," Ron remarked dryly while they walked upstairs, Ginny having to practically force Hermione to follow her into her room while the boys and Fleur continued on their way. "He's always at work. Been this way for nearly three years now."

"Mmm… I see," Fleur said, already remembering that Hermione had told her why.

"Did you see the way ol' Bill was givin' you the eye?" said George.

"I noticed how _you_ were giving me the eye too," Fleur added coolly.

"Well he was," George continued, unfazed, "but I think you're a little young for him."

"Oh? You didn't know?" Fleur asked briskly when they arrived at Charlie's room and entered.

"No…what?" Fred asked with interest.

"I'm not seventeen." Fleur didn't see the point in keeping it from them while she removed her shrunken luggage from her pockets and surveyed the room. It was quite suitable. Filled with dragons this and dragons that, but she rather liked it.

"Then how…old…are…you…?" George winced; at least he had the sense to not ask a woman how old she was, no matter what. Fleur finally found Hermione's luggage in her pockets and held them in her hand, turning to face the boys with an even face.

"Twenty."

"What?" The twins looked completely shocked, and Fleur raised her eyebrows at Harry and Ron's neutral expressions.

"Hermione told you, hm?" Fleur asked them, not annoyed in the least.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "I guess she didn't tell you."

"It's fine." Fleur waved her free hand in front of her face.

"That explains a few things," Fred said with a bedazzled expression. Fleur smiled wistfully.

"Certainly. Now," Fleur retrieved her wand and flicked the rosewood, making her trunks unpack themselves and their contents fit neatly in the drawers and closet. The boys all stared at her, "I need to give these to Hermione. She's probably wondering where her luggage is. If you'll excuse me."

They all stepped out of the room and parted the way for Fleur to walk back downstairs, watching her as she went. The twins gaped at Harry and Ron once she was out of sight, and the younger boys merely shrugged and shook their heads.

"Hermione thinks she has a chance with _her?"_ George asked, completely befuddled. "That woman's completely outta this world! And she's bleeding twenty years old! How? You didn't mention that in the letter!"

"It's a long story that Hermione hasn't really told us in detail. We didn't think she'd actually tell you… Don't worry about it," Harry explained. "But we think she might have a chance…you never know."

"'Least that's what Ginny says," Ron shrugged while they walked to his and Harry's room, "Personally I've been really worried 'bout Hermione. She's not been 'erself for months on account 'a Fleur. I just hope Bill runs for the hills if 'e knows what's worth."

"Our brother doesn't have a lick of a chance. Poor bloke wouldn't know Fleur's not interested even if she threatened him with those nails of 'ers," George said, "she's bloody gorgeous. Always was 'n still is, I mean. But blimey! She's older 'n me 'n Fred!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry repeated, "just let her handle Hermione. Hermione's promised us that she'll tell Fleur before we leave to return to Hogwarts. Keep your promise to not meddle, won't you?"

"Yeah yeah, Harry," said Fred dismissively, "keep yer hair on. We're just supposed to let them alone at every possible chance."

"Right," said Harry.

"But Ron, mate, ain'tcha jealous?" George asked when they reached his brother's room.

"Nah… I'm over it," Ron said truthfully, "no point broodin'. I'll find someone else."

"Good man!" Fred clapped him on the back while he and George stood in the doorway. "Well boys, we'll be seein' ya at breakfast in the mornin'. Should we pass on the word to Mum 'n Dad 'bout Fleur's, ah, _maturity?"_

"If you want," said Ron, "just make sure they keep it under their belts. Fleur's a calm lady but I don't want 'er possibly gettin' pissy on the first day 'ere."

"'Course," Fred and George said in unison before they nodded to the boys and went on their way.

* * *

Both Fleur and Hermione preoccupied themselves with homework and _extra_ reading up until Christmas Eve. Fred and George did indeed divulge Fleur's age to their parents, whereupon they both merely asked if Fleur really told them or not. The twins were absolutely baffled by their responses and their parents made no effort to rectify this. Fred and George asked if Hermione had told them but they said no, but promptly shooed them away at which point the twins bolted to Harry and Ron's room to share this information.

Homework and extra reading only could take up so much of Fleur's time until the eve of Christmas Eve. Everyone had been pleading with her to retreat from her room a little more aside from meals, which were strange to Fleur. But she did appreciate Mrs. Weasley _'_ s meals more than the Hogwarts food, as Mrs. Weasley was considerate enough to prepare a French dish specifically for her each mealtime. It reminded her of home and she was entirely too grateful. She would have been downstairs helping but Mrs. Weasley insisted that she not, especially as they were to have their supper in the garden that evening, out of the way of any snow. Charlie was finally home, and he and Fleur embarked on a rather lengthy discussion about dragons as Fleur herself was rather fond of the creatures and did a fair bit of extra reading on them in years past.

But while the Weasleys were literally a bundle of joy, Fleur noticed that Hermione was acting rather strangely. Fleur tried speaking with her, but whenever Hermione realised that they were even in the same room together she'd promptly run away as discreetly as possible. Sitting next to her at mealtimes was clearly awkward for Hermione as well. Fleur didn't understand quite why. While homework was a wonderful distraction, now that it was out of the way and she was lying down in Charlie's dark room, she finally let herself think.

Fleur was surprisingly patient about Hermione's not so tiny problem. Any other person would be annoyed, but Fleur really didn't see the point in being angry. She wasn't very keen on making assumptions about Hermione's situation, but she herself was feeling rather… _different_ about her own. Oftentimes during the day or at night and especially when she bathed, alone, she would simply wrap her arms about herself and sigh deeply. Her eyes would droop closed and anything and everything she was doing at the time would be stopped immediately to let herself bask in the sensations from the mere thought of Hermione. Now was definitely not an exception.

Her fingertips and nails glossed across her waist underneath her satin purple blouse. Her legs neatly folded on top of the other and she glanced down at her black fitting pants one last time before letting her eyes close. Her head was tilted to the same side as it was when she laid on Hermione last; it seemed like ages ago. And it truly was ages ago that sitting in a room and doing nothing would have driven her mad. But this was all she could do for now, even if she was involuntarily arching her back every five seconds…

_Telling_ Hermione now may have complicated whatever it was she was struggling with. For now, Fleur was content to hold on to her feelings as best as she could and stare off at the image of Hermione drawn so beautifully in her thoughts. Every day and every night that she did this, Fleur would feel herself let go just a little more and a little more each time, and she needn't think over exactly how and where she wanted to _tell_ Hermione for the best effect. It all felt so natural and _first_ nature to her, what she had in mind. Hermione herself was as well. She most certainly was…

"Fleur…?"

Fleur opened her eyes lazily, peacefully, and lit up more and more while she watched Hermione shuffling in her room, lit nicely by the moonlight peeking in the window. Her view was not obscured by any fringes; she chose to put her hair in a ponytail for once in her life.

Hermione caught her mid-arch, and could only stare while Fleur gazed right back at her with a very complacent expression. A while went by during which they went about their usual staring match, Fleur feeling her eyes undergoing another one of Hermione's over analytical scrutinies. Fleur steadily eased her torso up, letting her head hang back while she brought her thighs up slightly to move into a sitting position.

"You look nice," Fleur said softly; Hermione was once again wearing nearly all blue.

"Th-thank you… You do as well… N-not that you don't _always_ look.. nice…"

"Mmm… I should say the same about you then. I take it she sent you around to gather everyone up?" Fleur made a wise decision to not stay on the topic of Hermione's appearance; she knew better by now. Hermione was clearly too modest for her own good.

"Yes… She did."

Fleur gave Hermione an impish smile while she swished her legs over to the side of the bed to put on her black heeled boots. She knew Hermione was watching her but rather liked the attention. Even when she inched her body up to stand, she still held Hermione's gaze just as playfully despite whatever other thoughts were going through her mind. Willing her body to walk over to Hermione with the demeanour of a friend but the aura of a bit of foreshadowing for things to come was easy. Hermione was all too willing to take note of this, perhaps.

And before they left, Fleur was sure to offer Hermione her arm. Hermione took it, looking up at Fleur with that distinct tinge of uncertainty and flattery in her eyes as she did so. Fleur may have seen a bit of pleading in her eyes. She didn't seem to grasp it fully. But Hermione grasped her arm as gently and securely as she possibly could, and Fleur didn't bother to conceal her sigh. All she could do was keep her head held high as always and walk Hermione downstairs.

* * *

Fleur was feeling rather proud of herself still, even well into the meal, from having pulled Hermione's chair out for her to sit earlier. They were sitting next to each other, Bill not surprisingly next to Fleur and Ginny next to Hermione. Bill was an extremely intelligent man, also very apt at Charms. The two struck up conversation when Fleur noticed that Hermione needed her space in between her hissing randomly at Ginny every five seconds.

"Err, Fleur, d'you mind me askin' somethin' a little personal?" Bill asked quietly while everyone else was chatting loudly, Hermione and Ginny still exchanging hisses that Fleur could not decipher.

"You may," Fleur said curtly, really not wanting any opportunity to risk digging in Hermione's business lest she weren't distracted by someone else.

"Are you _really_ twenty? Dad told me and I wasn't sure if 'e was off his rocker or not."

"I am." Fleur didn't seem surprised that Mr. Weasley knew.

"Oh…" Bill lit up somewhat and smiled. "I'm just curious as to how you're still at Hogwarts if that's the case…"

"I wouldn't worry yourself about it." Fleur waved a hand in dismissal and took a sip of the champagne Mr. Weasley was insistent on offering her. "A lot's happened. To me. And in general, I suppose."

"I understand… I just swear I remember someone mentionin' your name 'bout three years ago."

"Who, exactly?'

"Mad-Eye Moody ring a bell?"

"He was my… Professor. For a time. An impostor, I'm aware."

"You mean you never—"

"Fleur, dear?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, just having come from the other side of the garden. "There's…someone here to see you."

Fleur quickly excused herself from her conversation and squeezed Hermione's knee affectionately before standing. She didn't even think to ask who was possibly visiting her, especially if Mrs. Weasley couldn't bring herself to say who it was in front of everyone else. She followed her over to a far off area where Mr. Weasley was standing, glaring slightly at a man in all black robes.

"Have you got your wand?" Mrs. Weasley asked stiffly as they approached the men.

"Yes," Fleur replied, confused.

"All I ask is that you brace yourself, dear…"

"Brace myself for what…?"

"Arthur, Lucius," Mrs. Weasley said curtly as they reached them. Fleur immediately stopped in her tracks and gaped at the other man who finally turned to face her, indeed revealing himself to be Lucius Malfoy.

"My, my… Fleur Delacour.. It's a pleasure to see you again," Lucius said, clearly straining himself to be polite, clearly noting the pained shock in Fleur's eyes and probably hearing her heart ripped out of her chest; she was torn in between pure surprise and pure hatred upon seeing him.

"We won't be far," Mrs. Weasley muttered to Fleur before she and Mr. Weasley walked off, just barely out of earshot while Fleur composed herself. She had a strong inkling as to why Lucius was here and folded her arms while they regarded each other sternly.

Fleur had lost the carnal rage over time whenever she thought about Lucius, but seeing him right in front of her brought it all out from underneath her mental blocks. Seeing him stand before her with his mild pompous sneer was hardly any better than encountering a Dementor; for all that he made her do she should have made him pay right then and there. But, perhaps she'd been spending far too much time with Hermione; the only thing that kept her hand from reaching for her wand was an ounce of thankfulness she had for the man.

Without his _humble_ decision to keep Fleur alive, she wouldn't be, well, alive… That was the only thing that kept her nerves calm and her nails from ripping his eyes out while they continued to stare at each other, Lucius finally taking the moment to break the silence while he spoke with his usual twang.

"I see you've been well."

"Never better," Fleur replied evenly. Lucius's eyebrows raised just a tic and Fleur's suspicions were confirmed.

"So Draco tells me."

"He told you."

"He did. Oh yes… he most certainly _did._ I was most surprised to find that my pupil had gone and fallen in love. With a… _Muggle-born,_ no less. And a girl! Most interesting."

"Just what are you doing here, exactly? Certainly you didn't merely come to deliver news that Draco's still bitter."

"Oh he is. That he is. But you see…he has every right to be. It's downright disrespectful to betray the ones that saved your life, Fleur."

"Betray…?" Fleur repeated dully, "I. Betrayed you. I betrayed you? _You?_ You nearly _killed_ a part of me with what you made me do…and _you_ try to use that same word with me…?"

"I simply expected better from you. Draco is very hurt and upset. I remember you two being quite close until that unfortunate flower incident. You do remember I told you not to go outside, but no. You just _had_ to see the flowers. Muggles took you away from me, Fleur. You could have been so much… _greater_ right now had they not. I assure you."

"I don't care about _power,_ Lucius, unlike you. You only took me in because you were greedy. You know Voldemort feared me because of my blood. My _blood._ And you despise Hermione because of her _blood._ Don't. Start."

"I question whether you can use that word in the past tense… feared…fear.. I really do question that right now. Which is another reason why I came to see you."

"Oh really?"

"The Marks have been burning for weeks."

"I don't have one so I'm sorry I wasn't aware of this. And it has nothing to do with me so kindly get out of my business and leave."

"You're a fool for loving her. You're a fool for loving anyone. What did I teach you? I _know_ you remember—"

"Leave."

"I'm most certainly not aiming to stay, Fleur, believe me – you can also do better than this _humble_ abode. You're practically royalty and yet you taint yourself so. Purple…the colour of royalty, too… How fitting. I suggest you heed my warning and leave Granger alone."

"I suggest you leave and remind Draco that he can't hide behind me anymore from him failing to master your little tests like he used to. He was a coward and he always will be."

"You lose control too easily—"

"I said _**LEAVE."**_

Lucius frowned and didn't even take the time to try and scrutinise her; he winced soon afterward and gripped his arm before disappearing with a pop. Fleur was mildly surprised that he left without trying to have the final word and sighed. Lucius was wrong. Fleur was still the master of her own emotions. All Hermione was doing was opening up a new range of feelings for her. Feelings that right now, especially right now, she wished Hermione could reciprocate.

Still, something kept telling her to wait until Hermione explained herself somehow. Until that time came, she was perfectly fine with waiting. Hermione will tell her; Fleur didn't have any doubts about this or the way she felt.

Just wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Patience and understanding, and remember to smile…

* * *

Sleeping was difficult for Fleur that night. A long time passed and she felt that she was wasting her time even trying; it was nearly dawn and she still couldn't sleep. There were the occasional times when she would toss and turn in a fitful attempt at sleeping, but that was simply because she couldn't get Hermione out of her mind. Thinking about Hermione kept her from her nightmares, which also kept her from her needed sleep.

She was glad that no one except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew that Lucius had come to see her as she didn't want to be bothered with needless questions. But she also felt guilty that she hadn't told Hermione, mainly because Hermione had went back inside without waiting to tell Fleur personally that she was leaving.

Fleur continued to toss and turn, feeling a coat of sweat upon her forehead even though all she could think about was Hermione. Thinking of Hermione was her coat of sugar from thinking of anything else any more sinister. But being all-consumed by Hermione, Hermione who was too shy to tell her whatever was on her mind, was a cause for concern. Hermione's faults and assets and memories they shared and entire conversations they'd had; even the feel of her arms wrapped about her waist felt all too real.

A sinister smile snaked its way on her face while she wrapped her own arms around herself. It was nothing like Hermione but it was good enough.. She wanted the chance for this to happen without Hermione's rather… _adorable_ shyness, really. Tonight was the night that she will conquer and take what was rightfully hers; Hermione's full and unconditional…love…and support…and.. _help… Help? Help…?_

"I need.. help… Help.. Help me… please… _please…"_

Fleur immediately fell asleep soon after getting that off of her chest. Accepting her feelings was what helped to end the tantrums, and occasionally voicing inner demons tended to keep her stable for a time. She needed Hermione that very instant but she trusted that she'd have her soon…if not just see her in a few hours… Her eyes felt heavy in her heart even when she finally drifted off, but it felt like minutes later, though it was actually quite a few hours, that she shot up from bed after being awoken abruptly by various people making noise in her room. Or really only two people.

"Wake up Fleur!" the twins sang over and over again while they jumped on her bed on their knees. "Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP! You've presents at the foot of your bed and you've been sleepin' too long!"

"She's gonna murder you lot, she is," Ginny grumbled, pinching the brim of her nose. Harry and Ron exchanged uneasy looks while Fleur merely stared at the twins blankly, almost as if she were dreaming.

"What day is it…?" Fleur asked vacantly. Fred and George stopped and stared at her.

"It's Christmas," Fred stated.

"Happy Christmas!" George grinned.

"Yeah, Happy Christmas Fleur," said Ron, though his smile was rather sad, "you've been asleep for a long time.. we were worried."

"Oh.." Fleur ignored the rather large pile of presents at the foot of her bed and looked around the room some more, feeling her insides plummet more and more as she did. "Where is she...?"

"She ahh…promised her Mum and Dad she'd go see them and her family today," Harry told her, "she wanted to take you but she was afraid to wake you."

"Oh…" Fleur frowned and buried her face in her hands; she missed making a good impression with the parents even if she wasn't prepared. Great… "Did she say when she'd be back?"

"Late," Ginny said quickly.

"Oh," Fleur repeated yet again, "all right.."

"She said to thank you for the gift you gave her," said Harry, "and thanks for the one you gave us too."

Fleur barely heard their gratitude and could only wonder and wonder about the look on Hermione's face when she did open her gift. Maybe she would have seen it had she been awake…

"D'you want us to leave?" Fred asked.

"That would be…nice," Fleur mumbled, not caring about pleasantries or politeness at the moment and for good reason.

"Okay.. sorry 'bout wakin' you…" said George while they all began to file out. Fleur merely waved a hand and kept her face buried in the other, only collapsing back in bed when she heard the sound of the door click shut.

A strange sting bit at her eyes while she stared at the ceiling. Judging on the light coming from the window, it was late in the afternoon. Fleur knew she wouldn't have been able to function properly without sleep, especially not in front of Hermione's family.. and she would have been much grumpier had anyone woken her earlier, Christmas or not.

After a supposedly calming breath, Fleur sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed. She usually received quite a few presents, most of which were from her odd fan club. She was ever so thankful she thought to sneak in Ginny and Hermione's room and place both of their presents by their beds before she tried to sleep last night, but also read the horrible flutter of nerves she received as a sign to open Hermione's present last.. She set the moderately-sized box right next to her while she sorted through the rest of her gifts.

The one from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley was extremely thoughtful – an emerald _cashmere_ jumper that Mr. Weasley bought from a designer store, but had a platinum F right in the centre that Mrs. Weasley had carefully knitted in for her. Fleur felt her eyes water briefly from being a bit overwhelmed by the thought and gift. She quickly pulled it over her head while she remembered Hermione telling her about the knitted jumpers Mrs. Weasley always made for her children while she automatically wrapped her arms around herself. The odd smile that had crept up on her vanished while she let go of herself; she immediately started wondering about Hermione. Fleur swallowed and moved on to unwrap the rest of her gifts.

The gift she received from Harry, Ron, Bill, Ginny, Charlie and the twins collectively surprised her greatly. It seemed that they all pitched in to buy her this one gift for some reason with a large hint behind it that she wasn't quite getting – they'd purchased a brand new racing broom for her. It was black and platinum just like Draco's outdated Nimbus 2001, except this one was a completely different model. A Platinum Arrow, a notch above the Silver Arrow that Gladys Boothby produced nearly eighty years ago, according to the note Ginny had written her.

Fleur took a long time to wonder why they all paid such good money for such an up-to-date broom for her. She only expressed very little if not zero interest to play Quidditch with them. An extra incentive that probably cost them a fortune didn't seem right…

After laughing at the rest of her gifts (someone tried to fool her with a love potion, just like every year) and putting everything else away, she took a deep breath and held it in while she sat upon her bed and stared at her last gift. Fleur wasn't nervous about Hermione not liking her gift; it was practical. It was _extremely_ practical, in fact. Any hopes of using it that night were gone since Hermione wasn't going to be back, but they still had time.

And Fleur took her sweet time while she unwrapped the box that was in the shape of a rectangle. Emerald gift wrap, too. Fleur vowed to keep it, and the box, and especially the gift, somewhere. The box could have fit in her lap, but certainly wasn't that wide. Not too narrow, either. Fleur wished that Hermione could watch for her reaction, but at the same time that seemed to make her even more nervous. She couldn't remember a time when something so simple as opening a present made her nervous.

But when she finally did open it.. she was _extremely_ thankful that Hermione wasn't in the room and that the door was shut; she nearly wanted to… _squeal._ It was that wonderful. A foreign grin found its way to Fleur's now very awake face while she carefully picked up her present from the box.

It was an _otter._ A white, stuffed toy otter with innocent black beads for eyes that was honestly the most adorable thing Fleur had ever seen apart from Hermione herself. Fleur actually laughed and hugged the toy close to her face like a child; the fur was warm and soft just like her jumper. Her grin widened even more while she set the otter down in her lap, remembering that Hermione had told her that her Patronus was an otter. Fleur felt her eyes watering again and she could _not_ stop grinning. Especially not when she noticed a note from Hermione in the box that she promptly took out and read over nearly twenty times before setting it down.

_Happy Christmas, sleepyhead. I'm so sorry I've been avoiding you as of late but I've just been so.. nervous about things. I'm honestly mortified that things won't pan out the way I keep praying they will and it's really taking a toll on me. I just need a little more time… two days. I promise I'll tell you the day after tomorrow… I won't take that back because I remember how moved I was when you told Draco that I keep my promises…and I do. I really do._

_I know I'm not there with you now.. and I wish I could be… but I want you to know that I am so blessed to have you in my life, Fleur. I really mean it. You're the only one I trust with so much more of myself than I've ever given to anyone.. I know I was a prude at first and you've opened my eyes to so many things, even if it's only between us. I'm positive that by trusting me and loving me that you've helped me to trust and love myself a little more, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes.. and, again, I'm sorry… I'm watching you sleep right now as I'm writing this and you just look so serene.. you've shown me such a wonderful side of yourself. Even now…watching you sleep is so peaceful. I wish I didn't have to leave, but I do.. But if you're awake the day before we go back to Hogwarts, you can come with me to meet my parents. I promised I'd go see them that day for a while._

_As for the present, I'm sure you're probably wondering why on Earth I gave you a toy for Christmas. Well.. it's not just any toy. His name is Noel, like Noëlle which I'm pretty sure is French for Christmas. My Mum gave him to me when I was very little a few days after I came home from my first day of school, crying that I didn't have any friends. And…I suppose you could say he was my only friend for seven years until Harry and Ron.. So, in a way, I'm passing this on to you because it's been seven more years and I've finally gotten to know who you really are. I'm so, so glad that I have.. Truly, I am. I do pray for you every night, you know. I know it seems silly but I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you… I really, really love you, Fleur… So much more than I can ever tell you and far more than you can ever know. Thank you_ _so_ _much. For... everything..._

_Always yours,_

_Hermione_


	10. falling away with you

_so I'll love whatever you become.._

_and forget the reckless things we've done.._

_i think our lives have just begun..._

_i think our lives have just begun.._

_~Falling Away With You by Muse_

_**x.** _ _falling away with you_

_Shuffling up the stairs to Fleur's room that night was extremely difficult for Hermione. It was late, Fleur was bound to be asleep but she needed to at least see her…_

_She felt horrible for not being with her to open their presents together, but they still had a couple of weeks until they had to go back to Hogwarts. It was the couple of weeks part that made Hermione sick with nerves because she wasn't sure how she'd be spending them with Fleur, if at all, once she found out everything.._

_The countless times that Fleur had proven to Hermione that she truly, truly cared for her kept her legs going underneath her black dressing gown. She was crying not too long ago and Ginny woke up and finally caught her in the act. All she had to do was look up in the general direction of Fleur's room and give her one more assuring hug before Hermione left and started creeping up the stairs._

_It was nerve-wracking how the wood kept creaking underneath her bare feet even with her trying as hard as possible to tread lightly; she couldn't bear for anyone else to wake up and see her in such a state. Fleur would understand but she wouldn't know why.. Fleur would…_

_Fear had been breaking her bones and willpower for nearly a month now. Despite the grief and highs and lows, she knew for certain that her feelings for Fleur only continued to grow and grow, out of control and never slowing, so much to the point that it could either make her sick or make her smile._

_Everything that she'd written in Fleur's letter was absolutely true. It was so gratifying to have a friend, even if she was in love with her, who always made her heart soar fervently whenever she thought about her. Being with her was even better, or worse – having to suppress the shivers she'd receive from even the slightest of touches with her would soon drive her mad, but at least she'd be satisfied with herself…_

_Right now she was still sobbing quietly because of how torn she was between being afraid to wake Fleur but knowing that Fleur would want to help her, to be there for her, to be her strength. Hermione was allowed to be weak as long as Fleur helped her through it. Fleur was strong, confident,_ assured – _Hermione needed that from her but she was petrified about ripping that security away from her if she disgusted her with how she felt._

_The heartache she felt only continued to be more and more profound and distracting and derailing despite her same heart trying to work the strings to warm her soul and keep her going. She'd been daydreaming about Fleur simply holding her with her acceptance.. was that so much to ask...?_

_A sense of assurance in the form of Fleur's subtly strong arms… A kiss atop the head and somewhere more to let her know how it felt to be loved in such a way… And, perhaps, a kiss on the lips, however salty they were, to quench the burning inside of her and spark another one, far stronger than all of the rest each and every time. A never-ending cycle. A Fleur_ and _Hermione, not just Fleur and Hermione as best friends… Fleur that might not have even cared at all for the Weasleys, even, but she was making an effort for her…for_ them _perhaps..._

_Hermione's eyes finally found the door to Fleur's room in the hazy darkness; it was barely ajar. She could almost hear Fleur sleeping soundly inside. The thought made her cry just a little more than before however happy it also made her. Only Fleur could make her feel two completely extreme emotions all at the same time, with a spot of everything in between just for emphasis._

_Even now, walking closer and closer to her door and seeing a bit more of the moonlight peeking out made her heart scream at her to not turn back now. She could have spent entire nights walking back and forth between their rooms, contemplating and making a mess of things inside of her more and more all the while. Any effort she made to either be with Fleur or protect her from getting hurt or offended felt like the only two things that she'd ever want and need to do forevermore._

_Once she arrived at the door, despite her shrieking heart, the warmth she felt from being so close to Fleur made her push the door open just a little more so she could peek inside. The door was quiet for her, thankfully, and she tried to still her tears but nothing seemed to be working…especially not seeing Fleur sleeping so peacefully for the second time._

_While she shuffled inside and strained herself to silently close the door behind her, she remembered when she first saw Fleur sleeping in the Hospital Wing – she'd looked so powerful. Even now, that still hadn't changed. But she was at ease…that was the important thing._

_Hermione walked over to Fleur, noting how silent her breaths were. Silent, slow, even, and controlled… Even her head was turned so that she was facing the door. Facing her. The flow of hair covering her eye looked so pristine, as did the rest of her hair._

_The mild glow to her skin was very apparent while Hermione stood right at her bedside, noting that Fleur was sleeping on her back and strangely on the side of the bed closest to the window. Not in the centre. Her hair behind her covered the pillow completely in a sheet of shimmering blonde, her sculpted face did wear a small frown…but it was one signifying great strength._

_A very small voice in her head said to slip under the duvet and hold her now before she concluded that running away would be best. So she did so, noting how incredibly warm it was under Charlie's duvet. Holding Fleur and laying her head on her chest felt so right, even if she felt a little cold from the absence of Fleur's arms around her emotion-wracked body. Hermione shut her eyes against Fleur's chest just under a very soft jumper of that cashmere material she loved so much._

_Feeling the warmth on her eyelids and hearing her almost quiet breaths and steady heartbeats was enthralling. Chocolate was in abundance, floating throughout Hermione's senses while she breathed in Fleur's soft allure…_

_She wondered for a moment if she liked Noel, but she opened her eyes and looked right by Fleur's shoulder underneath the duvet and saw that he was right next to her. It should have made her smile but all she could do was shut her eyes once more and continue crying silently._

_She wished that she had but one ounce of the willpower Fleur possessed so that maybe she'd stop crying all the time.. But it was difficult not knowing anything for certain except that she loved Fleur with all that she had and wanted to learn how to love Fleur in more ways than one. Being friends was a luxury in and of itself, but she craved more._

_She was allowed to let herself be free and unrestrained when it came to Fleur because Fleur gave her that same courtesy when it came to their friendship. It was incessant and nagging and still so wonderful because of the way it made her feel to fantasise and to believe that she and Fleur could share something one day. Hopefully one day soon.. Tonight would be even better. Right now… God how she wanted the love_ now _but Fleur was asleep.._

_As soon as she thought that, a hand and arm slipped underneath her waist and pulled her closer. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and Fleur wrapped her other arm about her still sobbing form. Fleur slowly breathed in the smell of Hermione's hair and gradually let out a small, guttural moan that made Hermione's cheeks burn a hole in her jumper._

_Shivers caressed her body while Fleur gently grazed her nails up and down her back, just barely touching the fabric of her smooth dressing gown, making Hermione involuntarily arch into her and entwine their legs together. Hermione could have fallen right inside of Fleur, with her somehow, and would have gladly stayed there from the comfortable swirling sensations she was feeling._

_Another moan left Fleur's throat; an earthquake of curious arousal nearly crippled Hermione while she tensed slightly and relaxed, and then curled up momentarily. The echoes of the sounds floating through the night air were still inside of Fleur's chest._

_It stilled her tears, though gentle rivulets still flowed down her flushed cheeks to soak Fleur's heart with the toils of the woman's own creation from simply being so desirable and sincere. Hermione longed to tell Fleur of the reasons for why and how she was making her body react the way it was to every little thing that Fleur was doing…_

" _Mmm… Hermione.. What's wrong…?" Fleur murmured._

" _I just.. wanted to see you… I missed you earlier..._ so _much..."_

" _I missed you too.. But is that...why you're…crying..? Or at least part of the reason…?"_

" _Yes…" Hermione breathed; she couldn't lie to Fleur. Not now, not ever…_

" _Hmm…you're such a big baby.. but I'll love whoever you choose to be…so don't.. worry… you can cry with me."_

" _You really mean it..? You'll love whoever I choose.. to be…?"_

" _Yes.. I want you to be comfortable being whoever you want even if it's just with me when we're alone... I most certainly am.."_

" _You're so sweet... and thank you so much for the present.. but I'm not quite sure how it's supposed to work…"_

" _Your present was the most adorable thing… thank you.. for the letter too.. as for your present… you'll see… before we leave.."_

" _I'm looking forward to it…"_

" _As am I.. and I'm looking forward to our...talk.. don't feel pressured into thinking you_ need _to tell me..."_

" _It's hard.. I_ want _to tell you so badly that it hurts and... God I'm just so…confused.."_

" _Impulses are fun to go with, Hermione... keep that…in mind..."_

* * *

The next afternoon, Fleur was standing out in the snowy garden with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George. The guys and Ginny were going on about Quidditch while Fleur merely stood a small ways from everyone, wearing the jumper Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave her, her same black jeans that were somewhat ripped at the bottom, and a pair of old black and white Converse that Harry suggested she wear as her usual shoes made her look silly in such weather.

She had one arm extended past her thigh, her wand in her hand, and her other arm wrapped about her waist while she stared off into the vast expanse of white before her. The trees in the far off distance mirrored what she felt within; a stark deadness that seemed like it would always come back somehow. Like the expected change in seasons.

Fleur simply felt as if something was so close…something that she wanted to pounce upon and seize _was_ hers for the taking. But there were too many voices of jest in her mind, clouding everything, making everything too hazy to make out..

Fleur finally wondered what things would be like if Hermione strangely did feel the same way. She felt a natural inclination towards always pleasing Hermione. Please her, tease her, adore her, worship her; repay her for all that she'd been able to do.

Thank her at every chance she could and every chance she probably shouldn't but would anyway to show Hermione that she wanted to be the one that will make her feel like a…somebody. Not just anybody. Constantly acting on the affectionate torrents she felt within, even now, seemed to be for the best.. _Showing_ Hermione everything and anything and _giving_ herself completely was what felt right.

Always giving – that was what Fleur felt as if she were doing. Give, give, give, give, wait, wait, wait, smile, smile, and above all, protect her – things that she'd only ever done for Hermione…

Complaining would only make things worse. Complaining never did anyone any good. However much she wanted to complain and scream and give Hermione more than just a piece of her mind, but all of her heart and very being, she chose to remain quiet. Quiet, and above all at least appearing to be patient.

"…at least _her_ jumper's _cool!"_ Fleur heard Ron complain loudly, easing her from her thoughts. Such sweet irony..

"Stop being so ungrateful, Ron," Hermione snapped irritably. Fleur smirked at her tone of voice.

"Bah! But d'you lot really think she can't hear us..? She 'asn't moved in ages.."

"I'm sure she's fine," Ginny said quietly, but not quiet enough. The silence Hermione was in rang deaf in Fleur's ears and she frowned.

"She usually quiet?" Charlie asked.

"Depends," said Harry, "she's usually mildly outgoing, and she'll spoke if spoken to.. especially with Her.." Harry paused for some reason and Fleur automatically pictured everyone glancing at her friend momentarily before ripping their eyes back to her. "Hermione…"

"D'you know what's wrong with her?" Bill asked with concern.

"N-no…" mumbled Hermione.

"You didn't…?"

"No..." Fleur wondered what it was that Hermione didn't _do…_

"I've got an idea," Ron said.

"Great," said Fred sarcastically.

"Does it involve kittens and posies?" George asked expectantly.

"Shove off," Ron grumbled. "Hey, Fleur! C'mere for a moment!"

Fleur sighed and turned, seeing as Ron left her no room to pretend as if she hadn't heard him. She realised how cold her feet were from standing rooted to the same spot in the snow for so long while she lifted her leg to walk, trying hard to focus on the sound of the snow crunching underneath her soles and to not look at Hermione.

She felt Hermione's eyes on her while she walked with her head held high, still managing to strut somehow, carefully, and didn't bother with feigning any warmth in her eyes while she made a general glance about everyone else outside. Her eyes finally honed in on Ron once she was a few steps away from him, wondering why he winced momentarily when she was finally close enough to him.

Fleur slowly peeled her gaze from Ron's freckled face to Bill's rugged one, growing bored with the _way_ he was looking at her that was also telling her something else. There was simply a very loud, however imaginary it was, voice coming from everyone telling her that she was doing something wrong.

Their silence didn't help at all. Especially not Hermione's. _Her_ silence was making her rethink just what she had in mind for her, making a strange guilt churn painfully within from thinking so horribly of her. It was simply causing fatigue in her mind and heart from _trying_ so hard to be such a perfect best friend. Fleur didn't even notice a malicious sneer was upon her face while she looked back at Ron, silently asking him what it was he wanted. _He_ seemed bright enough to read her, unlike Hermione, however ironic that was.

"So I was thinking.. we have enough here… why don't we play some Quidditch..? You've a broom, and loads of talent, so..."

"Maybe later."

"Oh.. all right, later then.. but how 'bout you show us your Patronus? Harry's been wantin' to see it again, and so've I."

Fleur shrugged. Ron looked to Harry, who promptly retrieved his wand and conjured his own stag Patronus. Ginny followed suit and conjured a horse, and Ron followed with his dog, a Jack Russell Terrier. The group watched the silvery animals move about, chasing each other through the skies and snow while their owners watched with smiles on their faces.

The rest of the group except for Fleur strangely turned to Hermione, and she bit her lip before procuring her own wand and conjuring her own Patronus, still needing to say the spell out loud unlike Fleur. It was indeed still an otter, but it merely lay still at her feet, looking up at her with what may have been concern for its master. Fleur lowered her head ever so slightly and felt a pang for probably making Hermione feel even worse by how she was carrying herself.

Hermione lifted her gaze from her feet and otter while everyone else dismissed their Patronuses, automatically boring her hollow eyes into Fleur's. Not a second of apprehension went by on Fleur's part before she lifted her wand and thought of the incantation, thinking of only and nothing _but_ Hermione and how close they'd grown while her heart warmed up considerably.

It took almost no effort for Hermione to make spasms shoot down her skin, despite the cold. Holding her gaze was addicting; she felt a lusty haze darken her eyes and relax her eyelids while she continued to stare. Everything but Hermione had gone out of focus, and the wonderful pleasures from being with her at a distance made her want to fall to the ground and pine and moan herself to submission…

And as soon as her Patronus floated from her wand, everyone and everything stopped. Fleur could barely put the silvery animal in her line of sight before her eyes flew closed. Time ceased to make sense of anything anymore, and everything happened at once.. absolutely _everything…_

Her Patronus had changed. It was no longer a sphinx. Fleur had changed; emotionally, mentally – Hermione had helped her undergo a large emotional upheaval to bend and smooth over a new shape to her very being.

She was no longer standing – it felt as if her body was on a high and yet she was still slowly falling, wrapping her arms about something immediately not to break the fall but to make it fall _with_ her. Despite the crescendos and falling, she felt as if she were atop boundless clouds. And yet it was almost like losing complete control and letting herself freefall, but with someone else for a change.

It was blissful and explosive at the same time, still, even now that she was flat on the ground with a pair of arms around her neck and something else with her, _inside_ of her… Something else that she'd only been able to gaze at for _so_ long…and it felt so many magnitudes more than just _relieving_ that she'd received first and wasn't the one giving.

Fleur's Patronus had changed to an otter… and what was better was that Hermione did take heed of her advice; she acted impulsively; spontaneously like the combustions and explosions going off inside of her, sending a passionate steam swirling within that settled into a near dangerous drive for her… It was like that night all over again when she'd become so humbly consumed with her own sexual drive, except this time she had every right to believe that it wasn't one-sided anymore..

Hermione was the one that choked back a sob while she bolted towards Fleur, uttering such an adorable cry of joy at the same time that it melted Fleur's insides into a saccharine waterfall that crashed down within, cutting off any and all control over herself, easily making her moan.

_Hermione_ had charged at her and sealed their lips together from the sheer flattery and utter joy that she'd made such an impact on her, sending them both falling to the ground while their otters hopped about their tangled bodies. Hermione was kissing her… Hermione.. _**kissing**_ her… Collective stares from everyone only further tangled more and more layers over the two, shielding them from the cold and any and all impossibilities in the world when it came to anything.

The lips upon hers and the fingers tangled in her hair thawed her from her frozen shock. Fleur was almost too dumbfounded that Hermione had finally stepped past the threshold of their simply being best friends and acted on her wants and took a chance.

Fingertips, nails, hands and arms brought Hermione as close to her as possible while she finally registered just how supple and wanton Hermione's lips were, full in their own ways and somehow whispering imaginary pleas and gratitude through the heart-shaped lips that she'd finally seized. Fleur only had to inch her head up and ease her lips further into Hermione's; both of them were severely depraved from the other and _far_ beyond overwhelmed and shocked and still somehow so sweetly satisfied..

Exploration took place, their lips searching and familiarising with uncharted territory that was finally their own. It was intense, smouldering, fiery – just like Fleur always believed Hermione's eyes to be. Their heads moved this way and that, faces still plastered on the others', barely getting any breaths in between trying so hard to make the most of their moment after far too long a time of restraint.

An arpeggio it was, between them – fast with their lips one way, slowly moving back to revisit and then soaring right back up the scale of how soft and _right_ it felt for their lips to be one. Everything else was forgotten while they let low, throaty moans and sighs escape them on occasion, barely leaving room to let them catch their breaths that they damned for needing as much as they needed this moment and each other. So many wonderful memories of their time together sewed right together with _this_ moment, creating a completely different image of a timid Hermione to one that was no longer afraid of anything.

Wind chill was blocked off from the warmth ensuing between them, bequeathing them with an ever-growing feel for the other no matter how surreal it felt to be so close and creating such tender chafing betwixt them. An epiphany.. a _finally_ moment – and it was all theirs for the taking, neither wanting to let go and both so, so, _so_ insanely desperate in their passions, _pleading_ with the other to never ever stop.

And yet Fleur still wanted so much more; she was lost within a current somewhere, falling still even though she was grounded, and was about to open her mouth in some unbelievably desperate begging form to Hermione to take her further.. but something stopped.

Hermione stopped first, letting out a small whimper that only Fleur could hear when she still felt two soft, moist, kiss-swollen mounds prodding at the skin just around her own lips. Fleur herself felt the flutters still, despite the rip from the comforting sanity that she was just in.

Both of their breaths were racing; both were breathing damp air on the other, keeping their faces and hearts warmer than ever before. Fleur was replaying everything over and over despite how fast it was in reality and how soon it had ended, ingraining as many sensations and thoughts she had into her memory forever.

It wasn't until she felt a hesitant finger placed upon her lips that she opened her eyes in concern, gazing up at Hermione like a serene, sleepy child. Their otters were still hopping around them, playing with each other, even. Fleur was reminded strongly of Noel while she sighed deeply and took note of how swollen Hermione's lips were.

The pleading look in Hermione's dark eyes made her body arch into her, a pleading gesture of her own that she knew Hermione wanted to submit to. It sent a lazy smirk to her face, Hermione already blushing considerably and only reddening further. Once Hermione looked to the side, however, Fleur finally seemed to understand everything.

Everyone that was outside before was still there, still staring. The boys were all blushing terribly, Ginny was awe-stricken, and now Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also in the fray, torn between shock and relief. Apparently the parents had come outside to ask if anyone wanted any tea and biscuits, only to find Hermione pinning Fleur to the ground and nearly devouring the woman alive.

Fleur strangely tore her eyes from them to Ron for some kind of support, and he smiled briefly before resuming a strange urge to gape and ogle just like everyone else. It seemed to her that everyone already knew but her, hence their hushed tones and cryptic words earlier.

This, Fleur surmised, was what Hermione needed to _tell_ her for nearly a month straight now. She rather preferred this method of talking, even if Hermione was extremely embarrassed that everyone had witnessed her lose her inhibitions completely even though she'd only meant to do it for Fleur and _only_ Fleur.

Fleur didn't even have to make sure – she knew Hermione had some thinking to do. At least this time she had a little more to work with and to hold her over while she gave Hermione her needed space..

And she knew the perfect way with which to occupy her time.

* * *

That night, Hermione was sitting by the fire with Ron and the twins. Bill and Charlie had gone shopping with their parents at random it seemed, Harry and Ginny were alone somewhere, and Fleur was giving her the time she needed to think.

The worst case scenario that she had running through her mind when she realised that everyone was watching them was that she'd have to explain to Fleur that she needed time to sort things out. But Fleur knew her well enough.. no one else would have or could have looked that deeply...

A wistful smile was upon her face while she and the others sat in a circle by the hearthrug, fully aware of the silence in the room except for the fire and everyone's eyes on her. The warmth the room was giving her could in no way compare to Fleur, but it was fine..

Her finger was busy spelling out Fleur's full name over and over on the floor in front of her; she was thinking and falling out someplace far, far away from the Burrow that she wasn't aware that she was even still alive. Everyone else faded into the background and her thoughts stayed in the fore, Fleur seemingly standing right before her, smiling and keeping her focused.

Of all the ways she'd pictured her first kiss, if she ever had one, the thought of her literally tackling her object of affection to the ground and possibly forcing herself on them was never a possibility. She thought it would be a shy, awkward first kiss. Never out in the cold, or in front of people, _especially_ not people she knew. She expected the other person to say something along the lines of _That was it?_ once they'd done it.

It sounded creepily similar to some joke Ron would make, but Hermione never considered Ron in that way. Viktor had tried to move things along but it just didn't feel right. Even when she did wonder about it, she knew that she had far better things to do than to fantasise suitable situations where someone would possibly slobber all over her mouth and leave clumsy bite marks on her face or cut her with their stubbles.

But _this…_ This was beyond amazing and incredible for her. Fleur had never done anything with anyone before either. The second she saw the exact same animal as her own Patronus float from Fleur's wand, her heart yanked her forward and nearly ripped her legs out of their sockets to get any part of her to Fleur as soon as possible.

She wasn't thinking about how everyone would be watching or that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could have come outside at any moment or whether Fleur even wanted it or not. Affecting her so much to the point of having her Patronus undergo such an extraordinary shift from the sphinx that represented who she was with everyone else, and the otter that she was with _her…_ Well.. Hermione really didn't see any blaring holes to hold her back any longer...

In fact, all she could see was the way Fleur had looked at her while she was conjuring her charm. It had the same effect as that Sponge-Knees Curse Fleur inflicted upon her in their Second Year; _no one_ had ever looked at her that way before… Even the Silencing Charm had its place.

But the one thing that didn't was Fleur's Severing Charm – Hermione had launched herself on her and Fleur didn't cut her down on the way. She welcomed her with open arms and equally lusty lips. Hermione had Fleur now to hold and to love and to help and...anything else they pleased..

She could hardly believe that she'd gone from pining to the point of insanity to being insanely happy; Fleur must have felt the same way for some time, and she didn't even realise it… And considering that it was _Fleur_ who genuinely, _truly_ wanted her, that in and of itself was the highest form of flattery that she could ever receive. It was foolish of her to not pick up on anything before, but she was rather glad things happened this way.

The kiss itself was more than Hermione had ever tried to envision. Fleur wasn't reckless or rough at all – she was gentle when she wanted and passionate when she needed to be. It was liberating and resounding and incredible and over but she'd never go a day without thinking about it.

A first kiss wouldn't have been nearly as ardent had it not been with Fleur, for Fleur knew, somehow, what it meant to love with her body. It was in her nature, even if she was technically inexperienced for her twenty years. They were both each others' firsts in nearly every way possible.. and this scared Hermione.

What if Fleur had some preconceived notion of things as it was? Hermione didn't know how to go about doing things…not really, anyway. Of course there was the time-old term to follow her heart…but that wasn't any help when just _thinking_ of Fleur made her body yell and sigh and moan in agony that all she could do was think and yet she _could_ think of Fleur that way now. Fleur kissed her _back.._

And that more than anything was what should have assured Hermione that Fleur will help her through this. Fleur...wanted...her. She really did.. _Fleur wanted her._ The truth sent her swimming and she sighed for the hundredth time that night without realising until George finally coughed loudly and ripped Hermione from her sentiments.

"So.. mind tellin' us what's been goin' on in that noggin 'a yours?"

"I'm just so...happy.." Hermione murmured with a small smile, still looking down at what she was writing, "overwhelmed, but… _so_ happy.."

"Seems Ickle Ronniekins came through after all," Fred grinned. Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and smiled when Hermione looked up at him.

"You know," Hermione began thoughtfully, "I never would have gotten the chance to get to know her like I did if not for you..."

"Really…?"

"Yes.. That night around the start of term when you...told me a few things… I got worked up over Fleur and that's how I found her behind the greenhouse… I left that part out when I explained what happened."

"Oh. Oh! That's a bit of a nice coincidence.. I think."

"I would think so..." Hermione smiled shyly and went back to focusing on her writing.

"Matchmaker Ron, ah?" Fred smirked at this. "Mind helpin' me 'n George out? We're interested in tall Veela women, strong sense 'a fashion, intelligent, long nails.. oh, and they outta be blonde."

"Yeah Ron," George added, "no blonde no go. "

"Whatever you two," Ron grumbled. Hermione chuckled and Ron allowed himself a small one of his own.

"What're you gonna do now, Hermione?" Fred asked seriously. "I mean I know you said she's just givin' you your space, but…"

"I just.." Hermione sighed and tried to look at Fred sincerely. "I'm afraid I'll mess up."

"Nah, you won't."

"Not on purpose anyway," George assured her.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled.

"Hey hey hey! I didn't mean it like that! Well.. forget I said that, really. What I'm tryin' to say is that you don't _want_ to ever hurt 'er, right?"

"Of course I don't..."

"And.. it's not like I can see Fleur ever doin' a one eighty on you and ever thinkin' ill of you. You owe each other a lot by the sound of it."

"Sure, you say that now.. but I've never done this before."

"Isn't that the whole point?" Ron asked. "To try? You gotta admit that Fleur never smiled before this year.. well, 'cept those odd times in Third Year but that was different."

"How convenient of you to remember, Ronnie," Fred grinned.

"Will you give it a rest?" Ron barked. Fred and rolled his eyes and shrugged. " _Anyway…_ you'll be fine, Hermione. You'll figure stuff out."

"Yeah but she has to _want_ to," George pointed out when Harry and Ginny finally decided to join them, "doubting yourself never helps. Not in the long run even if Fleur's always willin' to give you a shoulder to cry on."

"That's why I don't want to doubt myself," Hermione said quietly, "and yet I still do.. I don't want to hurt her... She's already been through _so_ much... the last thing she needs is me giving her drama and making her lose hope about everything.. And it's not like you can just tell me to not hurt her and I won't…"

"You're not sure if you want to be with her because you don't want to hurt her?" Harry asked for clarification.

"Yes..." Hermione looked absolutely miserable.

"Wouldn't you hurt her even more by leading her on and then telling her no?" Ginny asked.

"Yes… no… I don't know.."

"Hey," said Fred, "what happened to the Hermione that pounced _Fleur_ of all people just today, ah? Where'd she go? She wouldn't be sittin' here mopin' around while Fleur's happy now and wantin' to be with you."

"He's right," Harry assured her, "and what are the chances of you finding someone like her or better…? You two've been inseparable for months now. The chances are less than you going mad and hurting Fleur."

"I don't have to be mad to hurt her, Harry.."

"Then just how do you suppose that you'd hurt her if you have no intention of doing that..?"

"Look at me right now.. _Look_ at me... I'm lost and confused because I'm torn. I'm.. too indecisive. I'd probably be clingy with her too. Even now it hurts because she's not here.. I know I needed time to think but now all I want to see is her and it's this…this _dangerous_ feeling! It's not.. not normal... it's almost sick. And I'm still falling for her… more and more and more and what if it gets to the point where she gets sick of me when all I want to do is be with her all the time?"

"Whoa, whoa, Hermione," said Fred, "when'd you get all insecure? And even if you are I think Fleur'd know how to take care of you…"

"She most definitely would," George grinned. Hermione barely managed a small smirk and everyone smiled at her.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said, "don't forget that there's nothin' harder than bein' given a chance. I mean… it's not like she's going anywhere.. and if she is then she'd wanna take you. And this is _Fleur_ we're talkin' about.. not just any old bloke or girl. She really cares 'bout you. You're lucky!"

"I did think about that.." Hermione grimaced slightly. "I'm supposed to feel special because she could have anyone she wants and yet I'm the one she…wants..."

"Is that so bad? You're not horrible," Ron reasoned.

"Inferiority complex?" Harry asked.

"I think you're right," Hermione mumbled.

"I think you should feel better about yourself, really," said Ginny. "It's because she loves _you_ so much that you should feel proud. You told us what she told the Slytherins about you. And she's right."

"I suppose..."

"Hermione you can _not_ just kiss the woman and change your mind," Fred said tartly. "If you don't take her I think Bill'd be happy to snatch her from you."

"Bill?" Hermione looked surprised.

"Err, yeah…" said Ron. "The way he's been lookin' at her makes it pretty obvious. He knew beforehand about how you felt and that's prolly the only thing that kept 'im from makin' a move on 'er."

"It's probably just her thrall," Ginny sniffed.

"Probably... but now I feel pressured because of him."

"Hey, don't be!" said George.

"If Fleur kissed you back and for that long I don't think you need to worry about Bill," Harry laughed. Hermione chuckled a bit and nodded.

"And yeah, you _are_ supposed to be cautious with these kinds of things," Ginny added, "but you're over-thinking everything again."

"Yep," George said, "I bet you'll change your mind the second you see 'er again."

"If she even _wants_ to see me again..."

Hermione took their silence as the sad truth that she had a point. But no sooner than she thought that, that she realised George was the one who was right; she lost all of the feeling in her limbs when she felt a warm, deep, accented murmur in her ear..

"Mmm…but I _do,_ Hermione… I _do…"_

And those strong arms snaked their way around her waist, right where they belonged and in a place where Hermione never wanted them to leave.. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt breasts settle in between her shoulder blades and press against her. Her face flushed automatically, making her head spin and ears burn to warm Fleur's lips nicely that were prodding ever so gently in between butterfly kisses.

Her head tilted back and her surroundings were long forgotten while her eyes fluttered closed; Fleur had started purring in her ear and kneading her fingertips on her back and waist, breathing such shallow breaths in her ear that Hermione thought she'd soon faint.

That feeling swarmed her again; everything and anything but Fleur crumbled to pieces and allowed room for her near hellish relaxation in how intense it was. A paradox of wonders that sated Hermione and whisked her doubts far, far away – that was who Fleur was to her, _for_ her..

"Do you want to take a bath with me...?"

"Yes.." Hermione breathed, almost pleadingly. The smirk she felt planted on her moist ear made her squirm slightly, eliciting a deep, throaty chuckle from possibly, _her,_ Frenchwoman.

And that was the last anyone saw of them that night while Fleur swept Hermione into her arms with ease, carrying her all the way up to the loo. Hermione did feel Fleur's arms around her but she still felt as if she were floating, somehow...

Floating, falling, soaring, and finally believing _with_ someone... Finally feeling the relief that she knew she wanted for so long; the want had been pushed to the back of her mind for so long until she realised that she'd found it in the form of Fleur's body, her smiles, her confidence, her charms, her strut, her eyes, her nails, patience, understanding, perfections, intelligence beauty strength …

She had no idea what she was in for, but that probably was the whole point of things.. She'd just have to trust Fleur on this. That's all there was to it.


	11. allure

_true love begins when nothing is looked for in return._

_**xi.** _ _allure_

Humid, sultry, damp, moist, warm – none of these seemed to describe exactly how it felt in the loo with Fleur standing before her. The lighting was dim from the candles about the room, Hermione herself feeling as weak as a candlestick from being in such awe of Fleur standing so close to her, towering over her in a comforting way. She was in nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe; Hermione still in a shirt and jeans. The very air around them smelled of chocolate, of _arousal,_ of Fleur _and_ Hermione…

There was a wild twinge of uncertainty in Hermione's eyes; uncertainty with herself, and yet she was still so entranced at the same time. The steam in the room was settling into a dark haze in Fleur's eyes right above hers; it was maddening because of how badly she wanted to capture the vestiges in her darkening eyes and give them form. Shape. Substance. A name. Anything..

Hermione felt as if she should say something. She knew what she wanted to ask – she wanted to ask just how Fleur felt about her and for how long. But there was something else swirling about the room, seemingly fused with the vapour, filling her senses with such a pleasant entrancement that she could have sworn Fleur's thrall had melded with the fog. Fleur had made her a rather large flask of bath soap with a special _added effect._

The effect most certainly was working…

The gentle, warm, rapid thud against her chest that was steadily rising and falling faster and faster seemed to make the sensual curve about Fleur's lips become more and more refined as time passed. Hermione simply felt as if she could see the words in Fleur's eyes that she was so desperately searching – the words, questions, and pleas to have her think this over once more before she let herself spin any more out of control. The shape of the visible blue and the tint to it and the _hope_ gleaming in the deep crystalline was becoming increasingly easier to read. Fleur was becoming more concrete to her. Fleur was allowing herself to become a strong support-system for her.

There shouldn't have been any hesitation on Hermione's part and there no longer was; she hardly felt her hands hover to the belt of Fleur's robe, settling on the knot while she tried desperately to keep breathing to fill her crying lungs. Her chest nearly exploded from overheat when Fleur nodded with her eyes, giving her all the permission she needed. An increasingly lulling sensation sifted through her arms and wrists and hands and fingers while she wondered whether to close her parted mouth or undo the knot; multitasking seemed a difficult feat for her now. Her hands moved on their own while she let her thoughts float to finally being able to repay Fleur for everything for a very long time to come. It took next to no time for the belt to be undone. Fleur had to help gently guide Hermione's hands to her shoulders as she had started staring at where her hands once were, but she didn't seem to mind at all.

And it was only appropriate that Hermione tried to put enough pressure on either side of the robes, but she was still so weak in her limbs from the increasing allure arcing throughout her senses. Fleur eased her hands down her shoulders, just enough for the robe to slowly reveal more and more and more of her smooth skin before the white fell as a heap at her feet. Hermione felt her face flush considerably, though she'd seen Fleur like this many times before. It was _different_ now, and they both knew it. Fleur was caressing her hands with her thumbs, watching her serenely, waiting patiently. Hermione tried to focus on her eyes while she moved both of their hands to her own waist and letting Fleur go.

The nails and fingertips she loved so much eased underneath her shirt, slowly snaking up her waist and relieving her of her shirt. The more and more her waist became exposed, the more she felt the warmth wrap about her form, soaking her in a damp allure that was undoubtedly Fleur. Soon her shirt was off, Hermione was thanking herself for taking her bra off earlier, and Fleur had gotten down on one knee and had her fingers on the button and zipper of her jeans while looking up at her. Hermione felt her knees give way somewhat and she almost fell, but the look in Fleur's eyes somehow kept her stable enough, but not so much. There was a look of deep sincerity in her eyes, matching the seriousness of her glowing face. Hermione truly felt as if Fleur were worshipping her with her eyes; the revelation nearly sent her to her knees once more while she tried to smile just a little..

Fleur gave her a very small smile in return and slowly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. The sound of both rang terribly in Hermione's ears for how badly she wanted the clothes out of the way so that they could have their time together without anything in the way. The unzipping was tantalising but built up a powerful yearning for Fleur all the way through; she nearly wanted to burst once Fleur finally finished. Her hands found their way back to her hips; the way her fingers and hands fit into her was perfect. It felt even more perfect for the immaculate hands to edge down, Fleur always knowing to finish the two jobs at the same time and never letting her eyes linger, however much Hermione had grown to _want_ Fleur's eyes to observe, the loiter, to _stay…_

Hermione felt an erosion of nerves throughout, settling right in between her legs once she'd stepped out of her jeans. Fleur didn't _do_ anything.. not like that. But she did wrap her arms about Hermione's waist, pulling her closer while she placed her warm cheek just at her navel. The throbbing that had started long ago finally struck her as extremely apparent while she enveloped damp silk in her arms, pulling Fleur's head close and sighing deeply. Fleur's muffled voice tickled her skin and made her smile while she looked down at her, noting how her eyes were closed in such need and bliss and _want.._

"I know you want to talk first.. and we will. Just.. _please_ don't tell me no... I want to be with you, Hermione... I want to soothe you and take care of you and repay you for all you've done. I'm indebted to you for helping me so much… I promise that this what I feel for you is strong enough to protect you alone.. so please…"

"Fleur... of course I want the same thing.. how could I not..? You've done so much for me… I've…never felt this way about _anyone_ before.. I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever.."

Eyes of blue looked up at her pleadingly, innocently; one last validation. Hermione was only too happy to oblige and return the adorable gaze with a warm smile, the smile she always reserved for Fleur and _only_ Fleur. An incredible mesh of warmth settled everywhere throughout her while Fleur beamed and immediately scooped Hermione in her arms to carry her to the bath. During the short ride, Hermione basked in the wonderful innocence about Fleur's features just before letting her pores drink in the aroma of Fleur's creation in the water.

Fleur dipped in the bath soon after, making sure to sit opposite her as she knew that they needed to talk about a multitude of things before they let themselves get carried away. Hermione knew how badly she wanted to let Fleur just hold her now, at the very least, and never let go but this was a completely new experience for both of them. She did trust Fleur and she didn't want to say that she was afraid of jumping in head first with things, but she still _wanted_ to talk.

She just… wasn't quite sure what to say, considering how constricted her throat was and how exquisite Fleur was, as always..

"Nervous?" Fleur asked gently.

"A.. a _bit…"_ Hermione managed to get out.

"It's fine." Fleur gave a deep, quiet laugh and looked down slightly with heavy-lidded eyes and a small smile. "If it makes you feel any better, so am I…"

"You? _Nervous?"_ Hermione looked bewildered and Fleur chuckled again, this time looking back up to reclaim the eyes before her with her own.

"I may be less human than you but I still am human. Besides…I need to admit something that might answer a few questions for you."

"What's that..?"

"All of those hallucinations I had – I faked them. Every. Single. One."

A good five seconds went by before Hermione really heard what Fleur had just uttered. Neither of their faces changed at all. Fleur had actually begun to blush from Hermione's lack of response and reaction; there was something about the tinge of red that made Hermione want to launch herself to the other side of the bath, but she stayed put. She wasn't sure if she had it in her to move or speak at all…not for a while, anyway. Thinking was difficult, breathing was difficult; all she could register was that she and Fleur were together and the bath was beginning to render her silly.

Fleur _faked_ her hallucinations… which meant…

"I'm sorry," Fleur breathed, "I've just had this… strange _fascination_ with you for years.. And it got to the point where I wasn't sure if it was _you_ or the vertigo that was making me light-headed all of the time… I was just _so_ curious about you and I wanted to be close to you without having to ask or tell you why and I was mad at myself for enjoying it so much and confused as to why you were so nervous and…" Fleur drew a deep breath and willed herself to keep looking into Hermione's eyes, noticing the powerful shade of red upon her face, "…and I should have told you earlier. It would have saved you a lot of heartache.."

"…every…single…one…?"

"Yes…"

"Oh.." Hermione couldn't seem to find the words to say what she felt.

"You're not angry..?"

"No! No, I'm not. I just.. it's a big…shock… you're right about the heartache thing, but.. I mean, you were confused. It does answer a lot of my questions… but I just don't get how you had complete control over yourself the entire time…"

"Draco used to call me a control freak." Fleur grimaced momentarily and Hermione seemed to light up with understanding.

"Does he know..?"

"Everyone knows."

"How do you mean?"

"I left out the major part of my story a few weeks back that I practically confessed to the entire House that I care for you like _this._ I've heard people from other Houses gossiping happily about it when they thought I wasn't around."

"Oh…"

"I know you're not very fond of attention like that but it just…slipped.. I was so excited and proud of how I feel that I wasn't thinking.. personally I don't care that everyone knows but I wasn't thinking about how you'd take it."

"No, no, Fleur.. It's fine," Hermione said sincerely, "really it is. People were bound to find out regardless.."

"You're right," Fleur chuckled. Hermione smiled for a moment and thought back to something else.

"But is what Draco said about you true? You're a…control freak..?"

"Not with you, no. I don't want you to worry about that happening. But when it comes to myself…I can be."

"That makes sense.. since your Boggart is.. or was a Dementor."

"You think it's changed, hm?"

"Your Patronus changed," Hermione pointed out quietly.

" _You_ changed me."

"I did, didn't I..? When I _saw_ exactly how much…well.. I was so... _overwhelmed_ and.. convinced of everything… it all just came rushing right at me and I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to..."

"I'm glad you couldn't.. But I'm guessing you were rather embarrassed that everyone saw?"

"Well.. I _was._ For a while. Especially with the twins howling and cat calling at me all day after you gave me time to think… but I don't know.. at least it gets rid of having to announce anything."

"Mmm.. you're right. But what were you talking about with everyone else just now? I only heard the last thing Fred or…George said and your response."

"That's it..?"

"I'm not one to eavesdrop. Though I think I have an idea what you and Ginny were hissing about over dinner that evening."

"Oh.. w-well, yes, you're right about the thing with Ginny.. As for right now I was just…telling them that I'm terrified that I'll end up hurting you eventually.. you've gone through so much and the last thing I want is to be overbearing or not give you enough attention or end up botching things up between us even though that's the _absolute_ last thing I'd ever want to do…"

"I think...the best part about this is that _neither_ of us wants to hurt the other. And…finding a happy medium and just being.. _considerate_ of each other will help. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I let you go now all because I don't want to hurt you in the long run... that seems to defeat the purpose of things."

"That's what I told myself too. And it seemed like once you snuck up on me I forgot all about whatever else it was that I was fretting over.. even now I'm not worried… This soap you made is definitely.. _helping…"_

"Mmm…yes, that was my intention.. You seem to be doing fine so far."

"No… no, when you were right next to me it was even worse."

"Was it really?"

"Come here.."

Hermione and Fleur both moved from their places at the ends of the bath and met halfway, both of them stopping awkwardly to just sit and stare at the other. Both were hyperaware of how they were breathing, neither were sure whether to play footsie with their entwined legs; how to sit, how to look at one another, how to act how to blink how to _breathe_ – all were unknown and nagging and it plagued them to no end. Hermione wondered how she was supposed to breathe around Fleur now; was it any different than before? A swell of discomfort seared them, both trying to hold on to the vestiges of love coursing throughout and steadily succeeding but not by much. Hermione knew she needed to do something…with her hands.. But _what?_ Fleur seemed to like, no, _love_ whenever she took initiative.. it was more assuring for her, perhaps. More… _comforting._

She took a deep breath and eased her hands to Fleur's arms as she did, and almost like a dance it was in that Fleur automatically moved with the slightest touch and situated herself so that her back was to the wall. Nails and hands glossed about Hermione's hips, and in the same manner she was soon straddling Fleur without the faintest tinge of any ridiculous force against her body to make her move this way or that, Fleur actually having to look up at Hermione for once from her position. It was a subtly acquired commodity they'd learned from being on this level with each other for so long, even if just as friends.

The twinges she felt from the soap did begin to overwhelm her once more; that one added with the closer proximity to the one belonging to Fleur herself seemed to help tip her over the edge little by little while they continued to stare at one another. Everything but Fleur and the water and the allure had dissolved; all she could feel was the velvet under her hands and legs and Fleur holding her about her waist. The steam throughout the room only accentuated what she herself may have been exuding from the warmth she felt inside of her from _being_ like this with Fleur after _so_ long.

There was a burning pit of uncertainty and longing within, one that Hermione tried to hold as the latter while she searched and searched Fleur's eyes beneath her own. The blue she saw was dark and yet it was different this time – she could actually see her own eyes staring right back at her. There was a compassionate, _considerate_ kind of vagueness giving itself away there, but any pronouncement of the feeling was smashed once Hermione had the pleasure of hearing Fleur's dulcet tones, further accentuated by sharpening, shallow breaths that hers soon mimicked.

"I've wanted…to be this close to you without having to hide behind a hallucination for months.. You're the only one who's ever made me _feel_ before. For a long time I isolated myself because I was…afraid of letting go completely… something had always told me not to.. Even now I'm still afraid but I want to love you so _badly_ that it doesn't matter.. _Nothing else_ matters...only _us."_

"I…I'm so.. _relieved_ to hear you say that… I want you to know that I meant every word I wrote to you in your letter.. I can hardly begin to describe the way you make me feel… I knew you were special from the moment I found you that night. Even if I've never felt this way before…that doesn't mean that I'll be afraid.. You've shown me such a wonderful side of yourself, and only me… I don't want to forsake you…ever.."

Apprehension rang… _nicely_ in Hermione's ears while she felt their faces slowly pull closer. Her hands glided from Fleur's arms to the smooth of her waist and glossed up and around her back, pulling her closer still bit by bit. A wondrous pool of careful curiosity and want settled in her eyes that were watching the very same expand within the blues before her. Fleur inched her nails up from Hermione's hips, eliciting shivers all the while until she settled her palms in between her shoulder blades, beckoning her closer.

That arch of her body happened again, their proximity allowing Hermione to familiarise herself with the feel of the swell of Fleur's chest just underneath her own. Slowly they began to become level with each other, faces growing closer still; the tangible chocolate arousal swarmed her senses further, making them both draw their breaths in shaper and sharper, still so shallow, so sensual; steadily loudening enough to make them both blush.

"I'm falling for you _so_ much," Fleur breathed; Hermione could feel the breaths on her own parted mouth, feel the fear and uncertainty tinting her tone…

"I won't hurt you, Fleur.. and I trust you. More than anyone… I want you to be carefree with me…you…deserve it. More than you know…"

Lips were merely a kiss away from each other, eyes were still searching for any ounce of _anything_ they could. The tension had settled so nicely inside of Hermione; she wanted Fleur to extinguish it and light it again and douse it all over again with her passion and the moist of her tongue this time and the depths of the longing she held for her.

The vapour in the room would soon drive her mad if she didn't have Fleur to tip her over the edge soon… _now…_ A carnal rage within had settled, screaming for more of Fleur, more of her love, more of her approval for her..

"I won't hurt you either," Fleur murmured, "I'd be a fool to.. just _please_ be with me and never let go…"

Hermione breathed a _yes_ and nodded lightly, closing her eyes before easing her lips forward to breach the endless space between them and reclaim the supple heart-shaped wonders before her. Fleur eased her lips into hers not a second later, Hermione having moved one hand to the damp sculpted splendour that was her face. Her body arched about, acting impulsively and being guided by the way which the current of combustions within coursed through her. Their lips were tentative at first, just like their hands on each other, but soon even Hermione could feel the same tiny explosions erupting underneath her very fingertips just as Fleur deepened the kiss.

The current shot up to her mouth immediately and she tried her hardest to make this known to Fleur. The way she felt the fingertips knead on her back and beckon her closer told her all she needed to know. They had gotten to know one another intimately on such a level bordering this for long enough that it made everything so much easier. Easier, but certainly not any less enjoyable… The second time was still new for them, both trying to make up for this with assured desire pouring through their lips that made up for it all.

Just as Hermione put a particular bit of pressure upon Fleur's breasts and navel, she was warmed and rewarded with a moan, adding wonderfully to the sounds of exploration already in the air around them. Hermione chanced finally putting her tongue to use and prodded at the swollen mounds in between kisses, keeping her hold on Fleur as gentle and want-filled as possible. Fleur sighed and allowed Hermione entry, giving another contented moan when Hermione found her tongue; it was moist and soft just as they both were, and the kiss itself. Thoughts and wonderings and questions escaped Hermione's mind while she quickly allowed herself to simply let the pull in Fleur's every direction keep her going, fully-intent on pleasing her, easing her, and still somehow seizing her as compassionately as possible.

Fleur's hands had begun to explore, still sensually frivolous, still driving Hermione further and further to deepen the kiss as much as she could. Fleur seemed very willing to watch Hermione with her senses, Hermione herself hypersensitive to the feel of feather-tipped digits and nails crevassing the muscles of her back, dipping lower and lower. Just as Hermione felt the pang of needing air finally overtake her no matter how much she wanted to continue basking in the ardour that was Fleur and her ever-braving tongue, Fleur's braver hand had slipped underneath the water and cupped a smooth mound without her even realising it.

Hermione jumped and broke the kiss without meaning to, Fleur opening her eyes in shock and realising what she'd done. What made Hermione jump the most was how much lovely pressure Fleur had placed there; Hermione was gaping at her while they both caught their breaths vigorously. Fleur tried to remove her hand but Hermione moved hers from Fleur's back and placed it behind her, smiling all the while. The deer-caught-in-headlights look upon Fleur's normally level face made Hermione bury her head in the crook of Fleur's neck and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter; she really _wasn't_ a control freak when it came to her.

And when Fleur pulled her closer with the arm still wrapped about her form, laughing loudly right along with her, this, Hermione realised with tears pouring from her eyes while she continued, was the first time she'd ever heard Fleur laugh like this. Any other time Fleur would only let a sexy chuckle escape her, and it wasn't as if either had ever done anything in front of the other that would make them laugh so much.

They kept laughing for quite a long time; when one would seemingly stop, the other would start up again just because they were still laughing. It was contagious, compassionate, contented, _carefree_ laughter. A different kind of thrall that even sounded wonderfully of chocolate.


	12. acrophobia

_there's this woman_

_a woman, I said, a woman_

_she's gonna be great, let me tell you_

_and her woman'll help her get there; high up there_

_**xii.** _ _acrophobia_

_Ron finally managed to convince Fleur to bring her new broomstick outside for a three-on-three game of Quidditch some afternoons later. They had two days before they were due back at Hogwarts, and Fleur had been giving silent excuses all the while and staying cooped up in her room with Hermione. There was a light snowfall while the entire household except for Fleur and Hermione was outside, Ron, Harry, Ginny and the twins were in their Gryffindor robes and gear. Ron took the honour of divvying everyone into teams while they waited for Fleur. Well, that was what he_ should _have been doing, anyway._

_Once Fleur finally did come outside with Hermione in tow, the chatter seemed to fade out slightly, only accentuated by the occasional gusts of wind to further add to the chilling weather. There was a certain aura about Fleur, about her swagger; it was simply Slytherin, surreptitiously signified by her robes being the only green in the near sea of red robes and hair around her. Hermione was holding her broom, still wondering why Fleur had been so evasive all this time whenever Ron would ask her nicely to join everyone for a game, even urging her to wear her gear in case of emergencies._

_There was still a strange air about Fleur as she crossed the short distance between the house and where the Weasley clan were. Her face was set, her eyes were near stone; but the second Hermione stood just in front of her and was clearly in her line of view, she loosened up considerably. The look she'd been giving Harry in particular was, for some reason, extremely scathing and almost sceptical._

" _All right, Fleur?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned._

" _I'm fine," Fleur replied nonchalantly._

" _If you say so."_

" _Right, so…" Ron began awkwardly, "I know you've never played Chaser before but it's pretty straightforward. Harry, bung the Quaffle over here, mate." Harry did so and Ron caught it, gesturing with the ball as he spoke. "I'm Keeper for the posts on the left 'n George'll take the right ones. You 'n Fred are on my team, Harry 'n Ginny are on George's. That okay with you?"_

" _That's fine," Fleur shrugged._

" _All right then. Well, let's get started. Dad's keeping score. Let's head on over in between the posts."_

_Ron and the others walked the short distance away and Fleur took a deep breath before striding forward a bit to stand directly in front of Hermione. Hermione watched apprehensively while Fleur placed a gloved hand over her black broom handle, smiling ruefully at her as she did. They had been discussing Fleur's unwillingness to play Quidditch until today until Ron came in at the most opportune moment. Hermione looked up at Fleur uncertainly for some kind of explanation, still tugging the broom towards herself so as to let her know that she wanted an answer._

_Fleur seemed to understand and chuckled deeply, finally bending down slightly to brush her lips against Hermione's ear. The cold had dissipated between them immediately; Fleur's breathing was rather jagged, subtly, but still warming nonetheless. Her words seemingly opened a shaft within Hermione, fully exposing her insides to the freeze that was the external world._

" _I'm afraid of heights," Fleur murmured._

_Hermione drew in a sharp breath and gripped Fleur's broom when she pulled back and tried to relieve it from her. Fleur merely gave her a winning smile and a wink, dissolving Hermione's resolve to grip onto the broom for dear life and, well, Fleur's life. It seemed as if it took hours for Fleur to be out of reaching distance, Hermione barely registering that Fleur had kissed her gently before she strode off towards everyone else. The memory of her emerald robes billowing at her feet and the confidence exuding from her was extraordinary; Hermione didn't believe for a second that Fleur wasn't even the least bit terrified._

_It didn't take long for her to end up in between Charlie and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Mr. Weasley on either side of them, respectively, the five of them sitting on the sidelines to watch the others begin the game. There seemed to be a never-ending wait for them to mount their brooms and begin the game; Hermione's eyes were distant and went beyond the horizon but her hollow vessels never once left Fleur's body. It was only natural that she still may have been traumatised from that horrible fall in their Third Year._

_Even if it may have been years since she last flew, Fleur still hadn't lost her form or grace in the air at all. Not an ounce of natural skill had left her; if Hermione didn't know any better, she'd have thought that Fleur improved after all this time. Fleur's form was still so fierce, elegant, and blaring of pure talent; she was scoring often even though she'd never played Chaser. They never did discuss Quidditch at all while they lay together for copious hours in Charlie's room for the past few days. Their lips did plenty of discussing; they were both still feeling the shock of finally being on such an intimate level that they hadn't really discussed much._

_Mrs. Weasley was murmuring excitedly to Hermione about something, 'Her Fleur', but she failed to hear the rest; all she seemed to be able to hear was the sound of Fleur's robes and hair and determination jetting through the freezing skies, the sound of the Quaffle leaving her gloved hands and the breath she'd let out from her nose as she did, the sensual sweat dripping from her brow and the sound of it freezing, and her occasional panting after she stopped momentarily whenever she did take a shot. The black lines in the skies that her broom seemed to make in her wake spelled out to Hermione how simply astounding Fleur was to her; her resolve, her tenacity, her courage… Fleur only occasionally glanced at her, after she'd scored, and gave her a charming smile and a wink before she was off again. Hermione had a small, default-like smile upon her face while she and the others watched, still immune to the excited chattering and cheering going on around her._

_Harry, Ginny and George were rather disarmed by Fleur's everlasting abilities but they were still good sports about it nonetheless. Ron and Fred were ecstatic, cheering her on appropriately and she took it in stride, nodding curtly to their thumbs shooting to the air in her direction and their triumphant fists that were raised. Hermione was still immobilised with a dab of fear, wondering if Fleur was just doing very well at covering her phobia or if she really wasn't affected by it. As soon as she thought this, it was as if no one seemed to notice the way Fleur would almost nervously switch her grip on the broom every five seconds. Her hawk-like movements never left her, most especially while she cradled the Quaffle in one arm while she jetted through to the goal posts, but something was still off._

_Hermione was learning exactly_ how _to watch Fleur. She'd learned to read her when they were alone and when they were around everyone else and whenever she watched her sleep. And it was all of this combined that sent her to her feet in a way that almost made her jump out of her leg sockets just before it happened, that feeling of powerlessness overtaking her just as it did four years prior –_

_Fleur was about to move in to score for the umpteenth time and Harry and Ginny were blindsided, flying side-by-side and facing away from her. They were looking for Fleur and were right in her path; all three of them were extremely high up. She was expecting them to hear her coming, but they'd started talking by the sound of it. Fleur's broom was too fast and a little too unfamiliar to her still for her to brake properly; she ended up jerking her body down to fly underneath them but her broom insisted on going up, easily toppling her off and sending her down, down, down to the ground just like four years ago._

_No one could react in time and Hermione had frozen up, despite herself; her body was shaken and stopped with fear and guilt for the seconds it took Fleur to come crashing down,_ again… _The first time Hermione felt as if it were her fault and now, the second time, it really_ was _her fault. She should have done something but her practical reactions were far too sluggish and her confidence in them left too much to be desired. She couldn't see the look on Fleur's face, but the sound of her robes fluttering in her wake while she spun out of control seemed tenfold over the collective panicking of everyone else…_

_And then, just like that, as soon as Fleur was about to hit the ground and possibly ruin her perfect face, her entire body…stopped…exactly parallel to the snowy field. Her broom had stopped mid-zoom atop Harry's mortified face that mirrored everyone else's except for Fleur's. She merely snorted at the snow just centimetres from her nose. Her robes were just as close to contact with the white underneath her and she remedied her situation by extending her arms out at her sides and bending her elbows, such that her hands kept her steady while she 'fell' the last few centimetres._

_Emerald billowed about her one last time while she kept her face set, looking completely frustrated with herself. She slowly snaked her body back up into a standing position, brushing herself off after she did so. Without her wand, she shot her hand and arm diagonally above her head and Summoned her broom immediately; it didn't risk disobeying her and quickly flew to her outstretched hand. Her other hand ran through her sheet of blonde and ruffled it a bit before she shook the locks from about her neck and slung her broom over her shoulder before sauntering back inside, ignoring the gaping looks of surprise she was receiving and almost pointedly neglecting to make eye contact with Hermione._

_Hermione, who looked the most fearful of them all, in fact. Everyone else had flown over and was asking her a multitude of questions but they all went ignored; she was too disoriented and perplexed that she couldn't even make sense of what she'd just witnessed._

_Perhaps it was time they finally sat down and talked that night…_

* * *

_That night_ finally arrived and Hermione was waiting for Fleur to return to Charlie's room; Fleur seemed rather frustrated still. Hermione suggested that they bathe separately that night after supper and Fleur didn't protest, though she seemed as if she wanted to.

Everyone else's shock at what happened that afternoon seemed to have died by the time they all sat down to eat that night. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had asked her various times if she was all right, and she played it off quite well. Ron, Harry and Ginny apologised profusely but Fleur claimed there was no need; she was soon back to her charming self and the three of them were extremely relieved. Bill and Fleur had struck up conversation as usual and were having a light-hearted discussion about Charms, though she seemed rather dismissive about careers after Hogwarts. Ginny next to Hermione seemed to notice the thousand mile stare that overtook her at times.

Even now while she sat upon the bed in her same black dressing gown, she just barely took note that Fleur was peering into her eyes and watching her attentively. Hermione fought back a flinch while she looked deeply into Fleur's moonlit eyes and noticed how very… _apologetic_ they looked. Fleur was situated on all fours in front of her, Hermione moving back to lay down with a curious, apologetic part-Veela following her every move and never breaching the closeness between the two.

It wasn't long before Fleur had moved them both so that they were underneath the duvet and she was lying atop Hermione with her face on the pillow right with her chestnut tresses. Hermione had her arms wrapped about Fleur's body; her fingertips felt a surge of warmth flow through them with every bit of skin she covered just underneath her nightshirt. Hermione turned her head so that she could watch the moonlight play across the side of Fleur's face she could not see, enshrouding the side she could in a hazy shadow and lighting up her outline with a pale glow that rivalled the silver of her hair. Fleur was busy playing with a bit of Hermione's hair just underneath her chin, savouring the silence or damning it; Hermione didn't know.

"Maybe I should have listened to you," Fleur admitted softly.

"I had no idea you were frightened of heights for one…" Hermione angled her brows in a concerned fashion when Fleur stopped her fidgeting and turned to face her properly, looking neutral now. "It makes sense though…"

"Ron just wouldn't stop asking."

"He just wanted you to join in with the others with something you're good at. Ron's such a sweet person, you know him.."

"He's rather daft sometimes."

"True… But even _I_ didn't assume that you'd kept telling him no because you didn't want to fly again. After that fall I don't think I'd want to be in the air again either.. but he only meant well."

"I know. I'm not angry at him. Just myself."

"Fleur…"

"I could have manoeuvred myself better in time or at least _tried_ to get over my fears beforehand. Or I should have just told him no again."

"Mistakes happen...don't be so hard on yourself.. But…why didn't you just tell him the truth? Or at least me… I could have helped."

"The same reason why I do a lot of the things I do."

"And what's that…?"

"To show off to you."

Hermione saw a very coy smile curl about Fleur's lips while she observed her with a silently bemused expression upon her face. Flattery was not lost upon Hermione while she continued to watch the twinkle in Fleur's eyes, trying hard to pin the sensations that she was feeling down with words.

"Fleur, you.. You don't _need_ to show off to me."

"Is it so bad that I _want_ to…?"

"Well…no, I suppose not… I just don't want you getting hurt on account of me.. Which brings up something I've yet to understand completely."

"How I was able to stop my fall the way I did."

"Yes…"

"It felt completely natural. Like wandless magic, perchance."

"Oh! Oh, wandless magic. Of course you'd know how to perform it."

"But that's just it – I don't. Or at least I don't remember ever learning it."

"It's quite possible that you learnt it inherently. It tends to go hand-in-hand with non-verbal spells. Over time, at least. And you're quite advanced as it is."

"Mmm…maybe _too_ advanced."

"How so…?"

"It's just an out of place feeling I've had for a year or so now. I wouldn't worry yourself about it."

"Does it have anything to do with your age?"

"My age…?"

"Well, yes… I mean certainly you've felt a little… _stunted?_ Three years behind with things… It may be that your talents are beyond the confines of what you think is possible for yourself."

"Mmmaybe… But like I said – don't worry yourself over it. I'll be fine."

"Yes but…what about your fear? Surely you'd like to get over it…or something… You're quite good at flying, really… and now that you've a broom it'd be a shame to let it go to waste."

"You can help me when we go back. I'll think of something."

"All right." They both smiled warmly at each other before Hermione remembered with a small pang what else she was supposed to have reminded Fleur about ages ago… "Oh, and Fleur…"

"Hm..?"

"I'm going to my parents' tomorrow afternoon… they'd like to meet you."

"Do they _know?"_

"Yes… if that's…all right with you. Well I know it's after the fact but I'd written them a letter last month about you and I went on and on about how wonderful you are and how I feel about you and how scared I was to _tell_ you and they… They… They're perfectly fine. With us. I promise you they are."

"There's no need to be nervous about it," Fleur chuckled. Hermione's nerves seemed more pronounced than before and Fleur frowned ruefully. "Or not…"

"I'm not.. _embarrassed_ of you or anything of the sort. It's just… well.. My parents are a bit charismatic and they sort of teased me mercilessly during Christmas about how I was fretting over nothing and that by the time I brought you home that we'd be an item…"

"Well they were right, were they not?" Fleur chanced a playful smirk and Hermione gave in with a small smile.

"I suppose they were.. My entire family was behind them on the notion as well."

"They care about you, Hermione."

"They care about you, too… and they haven't even met you…yet…"

"I'd love to meet them. But your parents come first, hm?"

"Yes.. yes, they do… They already love you and they've yet to even meet you in person.."

"You're not worried about them scaring me off now, are you?"

"No, no! I was just thinking about how.. well… you've been on your own for so long… I don't want you to feel suffocated or anything. The Weasleys and Harry…sure, they're practically my second family.. But my Mum is really, really friendly and my Dad is a bit more humble but he's still really talkative and whatnot."

"Exactly what are you trying to say…?"

"I.. Well… Fleur I know you get turned off by people easily and it shows. Not so much to everyone else but _I_ can see it sometimes.. But I know that you're trying with the Weasleys and Harry for _me…_ You've even gotten them to all love you for who you are like I know you could, but I wonder.. I just wonder sometimes if you'd even associate yourself with them if they didn't mean so much to me."

"Probably not."

"I see…"

"But you do realise that it's rather… _inherent_ of me to judge people sometimes. I either judge or I just don't care. But you've made me stop being so cold towards others unless they give me a solid reason to not trust them."

"Oh... You're quite sweet, you know.. You've actually…come a long way.. I'm glad that you've opened up a lot, even if it is just mostly with me. My parents will probably be calling you their own by the end of the day if they're not already."

"Mmm…probably. Probably.."

"Do you miss them..? _Your_ family, I mean…"

Fleur situated herself so that she was lying next to Hermione now; her head lay in the crook of Hermione's neck and she curled her body about to achieve the perfect dimensions of how well their bodies fit together. Hermione held her close and let out a warm, but still somehow sad sigh from Fleur's silence. She had one arm supporting Fleur's neck and the other wrapped about her waist, trying to hold her closer than she could muster; Hermione had a strange want for the longest to speak to Fleur about her family, but the opportunity had never presented itself. But now that it was here in front of her, blaring so loudly in her ears like the silence enveloping them both, she wished she hadn't seized it so soon, if at all.

"Not anymore, no."

"R-really…?"

"Yes, really. About a year ago I stopped grieving. I want to miss them but I strangely don't. I've become desensitised over time, I suppose."

"You're not…worried about that?"

"I don't _care,_ Hermione. I don't.. _care_ about things, just like you said. I don't care that I don't miss them and I'm not going to feel awkward around your parents tomorrow."

"All right…"

Hermione bit her lip and watched the shadows slowly edge their way about the ceiling as time passed; she and Fleur continued to lay together, Fleur having fallen asleep soon after their silent goodnight, and yet Hermione felt a strange knot in her throat. There were a multitude of gray matters mulling through her aching mind, bringing about shallow pools of doubt and hurt to her eyes. She wished that she could be above them but nothing ever worked; the rivers would forever be a part of her at this point, regardless if Fleur was sleeping soundly or not.

There were no answers to what she felt, and there were no explanations as to what it was she was feeling in the first place. Fleur would occasionally intake sharp breaths and grip on to her, but Hermione knew it was because of her nightmares; those, too, were something Hermione wanted to discuss, to figure out, to get rid of. But, power – she had it not. Not even love seemed to be enough to get rid of anything when they were supposed to be at ease, asleep; taking a step forward to Hermione with _everything_ already seemed to make her dig her own ditch in which to fall through whenever Fleur would hurt her with her words.

Already, things had gotten extremely complicated. And already, Hermione was bottling things up.

_So weak..._

* * *

And of course, Fleur was the perfect daughter-in-law to the Grangers already; not even seconds after she and Hermione entered the house did Mrs. Granger nearly crush the Frenchwoman with a hug and Mr. Granger grip her hand in a hearty handshake. She was smiling all the while and keeping her poise and elegance about herself while they sat in the parlour, Mr. and Mrs. Granger of course asking her a multitude of questions about herself. Hermione felt the stings of her parents' gaze on her over her silence but she pretended to be deeply interested in the faint purple hue emitting from the acrylic on Fleur's nails; their hands were interlaced while they sat on one couch and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were right across from them on another.

Hermione felt self-conscious about her home now that Fleur was there with her; she noticed the way her eyes would narrow momentarily upon seeing pictures of her family about the room. The knick-knacks, the assorted medical books on shelves, the lingering vestiges of Christmas décor – they all seemed embarrassing now. She even felt inferior with her choice of clothing, a rare event; Fleur's black trousers and white dress shirt with a popped collar and thigh-high boots were sharp, something she knew her parents also took note of almost immediately. Fleur always seemed to wear black somewhere, somehow. Her trench coat by the door was black and white, leather – Mrs. Granger nearly squealed upon seeing Fleur's stately sense of fashion before they'd exchanged pleasantries.

Hermione also noticed the way Fleur's eyes would linger on the television to their right, even; it was as if she were trying to figure out what it was and what it did. She surmised that Fleur wasn't very good with Muggle things, Fleur herself having admitted some weeks ago that she never took Muggle Studies. Perhaps she was regretting it now? Or was she really being critical of everything like Hermione feared she would do with the Burrow and the Weasleys?

There was something about sitting with Fleur now after one too many fearful realisations that made her want to stand up and yell that she was confused already and they'd only been together for a week, if not a little more than that. When she'd made the decision to do this, her folly had overtaken her and made her visualise she and Fleur forever being happy and carefree. She wasn't thinking about Fleur's demons that she'd hidden so easily from her once they'd become friends.

But now that Fleur was even on first name terms with her parents, Hermione thought herself silly; the woman was simply impeccable and still somehow so, so unpredictable. That was all.

Or not..

"So Fleur, we were wondering," Mrs. Granger began thoughtfully, "Hermione's told us that you're twenty. Not that we mind! Kenneth and I are just a little curious about how you're holding up, being on your own and everything."

"Yes, I _am_ twenty," Fleur said slowly, not noticing the heat flushing to Hermione's cheeks at the same tempo, "And I've essentially been on my own since I was ten or so. I'm essentially used to it by now."

"Oh," said Mr. Granger sadly, "Well.. you know that you're welcome to come and stay with us after school lets out. I'm sure Hermione would be happy if you did. Right, sweetie?"

"Of course," Hermione managed to get out, noticing the way her mother had looked at her as she did.

"If you insist," Fleur said coolly, making sure to smile benevolently. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble at all! I'm sure you'll feel right at home." Mr. Granger beamed at Fleur while Mrs. Granger did the same as she stood up.

"Hermione, come help me with tea, won't you?" Mrs. Granger asked with a toothy smile.

"S-sure, Mum," Hermione mumbled as she stood and let go of Fleur's hand to shuffle after her mother.

Fleur and Mr. Granger resumed a light-hearted conversation while Hermione and Mrs. Granger went further in the kitchen, Hermione already knowing that her mother did not call her in there to prepare tea.

The two of them sat at the table together, far away from the door to the parlour; Hermione had begun pulling at her fingers while she tried to keep looking her mother in the eye. Mrs. Granger was smiling wistfully at her daughter and Hermione was thankful that her mother had her wits about herself to at least see that she was feeling awkward.

"So what happened?" Mrs. Granger asked carefully.

"Why do you think something happened?"

"You just wrote us a week ago about how happy you two were. And I can certainly see why - Fleur's an amazing woman. She's charming, beautiful, intelligent, and she clearly loves you. Unless there's something you were leaving out."

"Does she seem a little…critical?"

"Critical?" Mrs. Granger considered this for a moment and shook her head. "Not at all, honey. She's strong-willed, though. Your father and I like that very much. But something must've happened or _not_ happened. Now what is it?"

"I think I'm.. a little frightened about the prospect of talking to her about certain things. Last night she and I were talking about her family… she said she doesn't miss them at all. She doesn't _care…_ It…stung me a lot, to hear her say that.. Her tone was rather harsh, not really, and she…well… I don't know. I'm making a big fuss over nothing, aren't I?"

"A little," Mrs. Granger chuckled, "you knew beforehand that she's aloof. There's nothing wrong with her, or you. I assume that the both of you still have some adjusting to do. It's not an apocalypse that she can't read your mind."

"But Mum, I _want_ to tell her.. I just don't want her to possibly get angry again."

"That's odd, Hermione. You told us that she's the patient sort, especially with you."

"I… well… oh I don't know.. You're right but I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't even begin to tell you what's really on my mind. It hasn't even been two weeks but I get this feeling sometimes that she's tired of me and I'm suffocating her and this is too hard for her and I'm even getting tired of _myself—"_

"Sweetie…calm down. Tell me a time when you think Fleur was getting tired of you."

"That's the thing – there is no one time. It's just a feeling… She's rather dismissive and critical when it comes to people sometimes and she has trust issues. I mean, yes, she does trust me but I think maybe she was expecting something.. _more_ from me…"

"More as in what…?"

"Someone with more courage given that they're in Gryffindor for some far off reason…"

"Oh! I thought you were going to blurt out sex or something like that."

"No! No, no, no!" Hermione shook her head and blushed while Mrs. Granger let out a hearty laugh.

"Goodness, sweetie – calm down! You did scare me for a second, though. But what else did you say Veela are? Sexual…beings?"

"Yes.. Yes, they are."

"Hmm… Hermione, I want you to be completely honest with me. I'm going to ask you a few things that don't have to do with Fleur and some things that do. Okay?"

"All right…"

"Now I know that we've had these mother-daughter talks and such before and that you trust your father. But we've never talked about your, ah, sexuality."

"I realise I'm not straight, Mum," Hermione pointed out needlessly with a straight face.

"No, no." Mrs. Granger smiled and waved a hand in front of her face. "Fleur's a novice with relationships as you said, and probably even friendships for that matter. She does certainly have a…very _powerful_ personality, and your father and I really do love her for that. Not to say that you don't – believe me, you can have one when you want to. But both you _and_ Fleur have a lot of discovering to do. Granted a quarter of her already knows a thing or two about…things. Just don't be surprised or discouraged if you stumble a few times."

"Oh. I see what you're saying… I've thought about doing something about myself as well, though."

"Like what?"

"I feel like Fleur's leagues beyond me in terms of maturity a lot of the time. I've probably cried in front of her hundreds of times by now and I'm always _worrying_ about something."

"Hermione, I'm going to be honest here – Fleur's been through a lot. I don't think she had any room or time to _care_ about things the way you do, not that there's anything wrong with the way you care about what you do. You told us what happened and she's okay with us knowing. She's _trying_ with us, and you. Personally I'm glad you found her; she's downright charming. You have all the time you need to get used to each other. I just hate to see you all bothered over the little things."

"I know… I know.. It's hard not to worry sometimes. I try so hard to figure out what to say and what not to say or if I should even say anything or not."

"You need to talk to her about this. I wish I could fix everything for you but I can't, honey. You'll have nine hours to yourselves on the train ride back tomorrow. Take advantage of it. If you're afraid to just have a talk with her then…"

"…then she's too good for me and I need to settle for less."

"Hermione, no! I was going to say that things will keep building up and someone's going to end up getting upset. Is there something going on that I'm not understanding, though?"

"What do you mean…?"

"You've never put yourself down this much before, if at all. You really need to talk to her, sweetie. She's not going to get angry from what you've told your father and I about her. Even with us so far she's been a complete sweetheart. Talk to her."

"I will. I will, I promise. Things with her just seem so.. _intense_ sometimes. I don't know what it is."

"Fleur's an intense woman, I'd assume."

"She is.. I wonder if I should be the same."

"Don't force yourself to do anything, Hermione. But if it feels right then go for it. Whatever _it_ is."

"That's something I wish I knew, too. But I'll figure something out."

"Good! Now maybe we ought to make that tea. They're probably wondering what's taking us so long in here."

"Probably…"

The two of them stood and smiled at each other before Mrs. Granger went to bustle about with a kettle and water to prepare the overdue tea. Hermione chanced wandering over to the door to the parlour to peek in on her father and Fleur, and she was pleasantly surprised by the sight – Fleur was sitting right next to her father with a large photo album in her lap. Mr. Granger was smiling and pointing happily to certain pictures, explaining in detail about what age Hermione was when such and such happened and how he and his wife had a laugh about this and that.

What surprised Hermione the most was how happy Fleur looked. She was smiling innocently, her eyes had a glow about them; her occasional delighted laughter was contagious. Hermione leaned on the door frame for a long while, going unnoticed while she watched two of her loves sit and laugh together. She could almost hear Fleur saying _how cute_ she was in every other photo. It seemed too soon that her mother had summoned her back inside to take two cups, one for herself and the other for Fleur. Mrs. Granger seemed to notice what had caught Hermione up when the two of them sat down at either side of Mr. Granger and Fleur, respectively, and handed them their cups.

Hermione felt rather nauseous, hypothetically, from the ups and down she'd been experiencing ever since she and Fleur started to become friends. She wondered if Fleur was feeling the same way and was simply so much better at covering it up. It seemed that Hermione had a lot to learn about herself with this; something she hadn't even considered up until now.

* * *

That evening after Fleur and Hermione left the Granger residence, Hermione was expecting Fleur to walk back to their spot where they'd Apparated, but she instead led her by the hand in the exact opposite direction, further into the city. Hermione barely had time to register that Fleur had done so; she was enraptured in her thoughts on how many embarrassing moments of hers Fleur had seen in copious amounts of photo albums. She could have sworn that her father had snuck a few shots of the two when he thought neither of them was looking. Well, _more_ than a few, really..

Hermione adored her parents but sometimes they were just too much – she really didn't see the gain in keeping old photos of her trying to reach books that were too high up for her or her walking about the house in nothing but a jumper on with Noel in her arms. There were _others_ that made her shudder inwardly but she shook it off while she took in their surroundings.

They were walking in the heart of the city and stares were abundant, not that Fleur seemed to care. Hermione was strangely not bothered by the onlookers and thought herself even more silly for fretting so much over everything else. Even in the cold, Fleur's hand felt extremely warm interlaced with hers. She occasionally felt the brush of Fleur's trench coat against her jeans, her shoulder, arm, knuckles; they were walking extremely close together and Fleur wasn't bothered by this at all. Fleur appeared perfectly fine with simply walking in silence, not at all aware of a pair of curious eyes peering up at her tall figure. Hermione wondered why Fleur chose to wear heels if she was tall enough as it was; it made her feel shorter than she actually was, but not in a bad way. No.. It was, again, _comforting._

The collar from her dress shirt was still up and glossing about her jaw line, further accentuating the sculpted feature that was her face. Her face was set and her lips were pursed ever so slightly to match the bit of crease of her brows; but her hair was sleek and bouncing nicely atop her shoulders and back as she walked. Everyone around them seemed to be wondering with their slackened jaws and bulging eyes if the woman was a model, and if so, what in the world was she doing holding the hand of a little girl who in no way could compare to how she carried herself?

Hermione frowned dejectedly and focused on the path in front of them, noting that Fleur may have been leading them to the Leaky Cauldron – the building was just a few yards away. They could have just Apparated there but perhaps she wanted to walk and not have to explain anything.

"What was that about just now?" Fleur asked evenly.

"What was what about?" Hermione didn't dare turn to look up at her.

"You were staring at me."

"Am I not allowed to?" Hermione tried to drip a bit of playfulness in her tone and Fleur chuckled at her efforts.

"You're the only one who is. But you'll have to excuse me – I might be having a little déjà vu right now."

"How do you mean…?"

"Don't tell me you believed all that mess Draco said about you that night."

"What—oh. Oh… Well…"

"Mmm, you think about that for a few minutes while I take you somewhere. I promise you've never been here before but you'll like it."

"Okay…" Hermione said slowly while the two slipped into the Leaky Cauldron.

The place was packed with witches and wizards milling about, some sitting some walking – all of them were drunk or near drunk and striking up conversation with their neighbour about their latest encounter with the resident Lethifold and other such extremities. The building smelled strongly of ale, firewhiskey, and of too many people that were long overdue for their bath times; Fleur was horrible at hiding her facial expressions and turned her nose up at the activity and horrendous odours. Hermione smiled slightly while Fleur made quick work of getting them both out to the back exit and away from any perverts, male or female, more for Hermione's well-being than her own.

When they managed to get outside, Fleur tapped the bricks in the wall with her wand and led them into Diagon Alley, Hermione now taking the time to think over what she'd said moments ago. Perhaps Hermione was more transparent than she'd let herself believe, most especially with Fleur. She chuckled inwardly, imagining Fleur saying something along the lines of _You don't have to stare at someone, or even look at someone, to figure out the expression on their face._ Fleur was always so cryptic like that. Hermione wished she could be.

Fleur was leading them far into the Alley, into a place where Hermione herself had failed to notice even existed before. They'd gone behind Gringotts and Hermione felt as if they'd walked through a transparent barrier of some sort by the strong current she'd experienced momentarily– there was a path before them that was not cobbled at all, leading to an entirely _different_ Alley, almost. The architecture of the buildings was strikingly Parisian to her, and Hermione wondered if this is what Fleur was talking about when she'd said she had _been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things._ Interesting…

There were a multitude of people there as well, but none of them were staring – all of them could even rival Fleur's beauty, male or female. Hermione felt strong twinges of allures threatening to prod at her psyche, but she quickly shook them off and stayed close to Fleur. The path they were walking along was made of stone, but it was certainly much statelier than Diagon Alley's ground. By the air she felt from everyone they'd passed, she had a strong inkling that this was a community of Veela. Why they'd built a near model of Paris in London of all places was both reasonable and beyond her, but she expected that Fleur would explain once they'd settled down wherever it was that they were heading.

The building Fleur finally did decide to go towards was rather large – it was rather Gothic in appearance and quite sophisticated. Fleur placed one hand on the handle of the spinning door before them and gestured for Hermione to enter first. Hermione smiled at Fleur's manners and did so, Fleur soon following after her while she took note of how the sound of the doors reminded her of heartbeats. Dying heartbeats or simply slow ones; she didn't know.

The interior was brightly-lit, ivory-coloured, full of people, and made of marble with toffee-coloured columns throughout. Fleur gestured to the ceiling and Hermione nearly toppled backwards from trying to get a good enough look – it was extremely high up as it was and quite impressive. Half was made of glass with gold arcs, fully exposing the night sky dotted with stars while the other half was flat and, well, normal, but still regal nonetheless. Hermione was expecting everyone to be in formal attire from the looks of the building, but everyone seemed to be in either casual suits or dresses; some were dancing to the simple French music playing, others were standing in corners by tables of food and drink or sitting at tables for two, simply chatting.

Fleur eased Hermione from her sightseeing and led her further inside, occasionally nodding to the other gorgeous entities who greeted her brightly in French and English, sometimes stopping for longer amounts of time to introduce Hermione, as her girlfriend of course, to so and so who worked for such and such company both inside and outside the community, mostly inside.

"My goodness Fleur!" one Veela wizard exclaimed among a large group of others, his name something along the lines of Armand, "And here I was thinking that you'd just gone and forgotten about us! We haven't seen you in ages!"

"I apologise," Fleur said with a slight bow of her head, a small, polite smile adorning her face, "I needed some time to figure things out and spend time with Hermione."

"But of course! And charming her family was in order, no doubt!"

"You know me too well."

"That I do Fleur, that I do!"

"Hermione dear, you _are_ the friend of Harry Potter, aren't you?" another Veela witch said chattily, her name long forgotten by Hermione.

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, making sure to keep that annoying stutter and string of hesitation from her voice. All of Fleur's friends beamed at her and began talking excitedly amongst themselves, Armand and the other witch still focusing on her.

"I _knew_ I recognised you from somewhere!" Armand exclaimed. "That…that English Wizarding paper, what's it called?"

"The _Daily Prophet,_ dear," the other witch clarified.

"Oh yes! Yes, the _Prophet._ I saw an article in there about you. We had a large celebration here that night when Harry Potter and Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord in the Ministry that night. Fleur sadly couldn't make it. You never did tell us why, chère.."

"I wasn't feeling well," Fleur said with a sigh, "I don't know what it was. Some massive headache and something else. I told you countless times before, Armand."

"Oh you have, haven't you? I keep forgetting!"

"Fleur, dear," another witch said, "surely you didn't come here to have us talk your heads off. Go enjoy yourselves."

"Certainly," Fleur said with a thankful smile while they both bowed their heads to each other, "it was lovely seeing you all again."

"You as well dear," Armand said jovially, "be sure to sneak off here with Hermione from now on!"

"We'll see, Armand," Fleur chuckled.

"It was nice meeting you all," said Hermione.

"You too dear, you too!" another wizard said.

After a bit more of Fleur pointedly dragging Hermione away from the large crowd, they finally managed to get away. Hermione let out a small sigh and smiled while she continued walking close to Fleur, subconsciously learning to bow her head slightly whenever someone would make eye contact with her and smile. Fleur was clearly well-known here; it took quite a bit more time of people-dodging before they began walking up a large, carpeted spiral staircase. Hermione felt slightly out of place with her choice of clothing, most especially her old Converse compared to that of everyone else in the establishment, and not just Fleur. The entire building simply screamed sophistication and class, two things that she'd easily learnt to associate with Fleur and not at all with herself.

Once they finished the trek up the stairs, Hermione was greeted with a wonderfully cooling bit of air that was just the right temperature. They'd gone to the roof, it seemed, and there were a few tables for two along the edges of the building with ample railing to prevent any accidents. A waiter walked over to the couple and greeted them in French while he took their coats. He and Fleur seemed to be on first name terms, and Hermione soon found herself seated at one of the tables away from any of the others also sitting and enjoying their meals. Fleur had already ordered ahead of time, saving Hermione any awkwardness of trying to pick anything, and the waiter was soon off after filling both of their glasses with wine. Hermione was surprised by the alcohol but Fleur immediately took a sip and held her glass to her mouth while she observed, watched, studied…

Hermione was preoccupied with looking around, taking note of how high up they were but still enjoying it regardless. She did notice during her observations that Fleur was making a point to keep her eyes on her, and that Fleur really was much better at covering up her fears and such than she was – Hermione had nearly forgotten that the woman was afraid of heights. But here they were, sitting together on a rooftop overlooking all of what appeared to be Paris without any hesitation on Fleur's part. Hermione's admiration for Fleur seemed to have increased tenfold that evening from the mere realisation that Fleur wasn't _really_ afraid of anything…not in that way, so to speak.

But she once again felt self-conscious about her attire and a plethora of too many other things when the waiter arrived moments later with their meals. Hermione had no idea what it was that Fleur had gotten for herself, but she saw that Fleur had ordered seafood for her. She remembered explaining to Fleur that whenever her parents did drag her to fancy restaurants that she'd always stuck to seafood to be safe, and it was her favourite. Her memory was flawless, just as she was…

"Fleur, this place is beautiful.. The food, the venue…everything… I.. well… Thank you."

"Mmm, you're welcome." Fleur smiled warmly while they both began eating, "I'm sorry that my friends down there were rather talkative. It's true that I haven't been here in a few months.."

"Oh… right.. So I take it you come here often?"

"I usually come every other weekend when I want to get away from Hogwarts. I remember stumbling upon the place when I was looking for a place to go shopping for new clothes when I was eleven or so. Of course they didn't let me in at the time but I came back once I got my Apparition license. In case you were wondering, only Veela know about this place."

"Yes, I surmised as much. I felt some strange chill just as we went behind Gringotts."

"The barrier let you in because you were holding my hand. It's to keep…unwanted intruders out. The Veela that were in France who survived or got out early fled here. It's the only safe haven for Veela that's been established and the creator had a crisis in mind that happened all those years ago when he and his wife decided to build this place. He figured Voldemort would know Veela are too pompous to go anywhere near Diagon Alley, and he was right; everyone that came here was perfectly safe, and they still are."

"I see… So this is like a miniature version of Paris?"

"Essentially, yes.. depending on your definition of 'miniature'. We even call it 'Paris' just to confuse people should we need to talk about it outside."

"Oh. And what else is there to do here?"

"Nothing, really. People either stay at home, work, or go to parties and network. Everyone knows everyone and there's really no need to leave. But some come and go should they choose to live elsewhere. They tease me for not living here but I'd much rather not."

"Why not?"

"It's stifling here. As much as I love taking a step and seeing someone I know, I'd rather keep to myself a little more."

"Of course."

"So I take it you thought about what I asked you?" Fleur really wasn't one to keep up with small talk for long, if at all, and Hermione chuckled at this while she nodded.

"Malfoy said I have self-esteem issues.. among other things. I remember. To be honest, he was right about my problem. I can't lie to you."

"You do realise…" Fleur began slowly while she let her gaze linger on the sight below them, "that not saying anything is just as bad as lying, right?"

"Ahh… well.. Yes, you're right. I never thought of it that way…"

"I lied to you about my phobia. And I'm also lying to you about a lot of things…some of which I've forgotten. I can't seem to remember what it was that I've forgotten most of the time and then I end up clamming up." Fleur returned her calm gaze to Hermione's concerned face, relaxing her own face a tic while she sighed deeply. "This isn't easy, Hermione. I know you've been worrying yourself about something. I don't think I ever _really_ let you know that you can talk to me about anything."

Hermione chanced taking a sip of her wine to bide her time, gladly basking in the surprising sweetness of the liquor and even the tinge of sweetness in Fleur's tone. Not once did their eyes leave each other; Hermione was busy trying to analyse Fleur and the way her collar still brushed against her jaw line while they both watched each other with careful, affectionate, attentive eyes. Hermione was so busy trying to mull over the words that had floated so gently from Fleur's lips, memorising the careful curl around the blue of her eyes, seeing the bit of apology and care behind them; she felt foolish from it all. Absolutely foolish..

"Fleur… I'm sorry. I feel silly, really.. Not even two weeks and something's already gone wrong…"

"It's only wrong if you think it is. You'll worry yourself to death one of these days, Hermione.. Now tell me what's been on your mind, hm?"

"Well… I suppose I'll start with last night. Your…tone.. or something. I'm not…quite sure what it was, but.. I just…" Hermione took a deep breath and remembered the air she held about herself in front of Fleur's friends while she willed herself to continue on, "I wonder about you, Fleur… I wonder if maybe you've been too isolated for so long. You have been rather desensitised about things and it scares me. It _really,_ really scares me."

"I've been working on that.. _fixing_ myself," Fleur sighed, "I realise I am a jerk sometimes. There is no other word for it."

"A jerk?"

"It's exactly what I said about the Weasleys and Harry – I probably wouldn't associate myself with them if they didn't mean so much to you. What is it.. an elitist personality, perhaps? They're not like me so why bother even being around them? In our First Year, Draco and I made a silent agreement to not even go near Millicent Bulstrode because she's not the nicest looking girl you could find. I'm not a saint and I don't pretend to be, either. But I'm trying, Hermione. I'm trying…for you. And for myself. So I don't want you to worry about that."

"I won't. I won't… Thank you for explaining all of that. It does clear up a lot. But from how you've grown up, I don't really blame you for thinking the way you do."

"True. Besides, I _am_ in Slytherin. I'm allowed certain Slytherin qualities." Fleur always seemed to know when to add a bit of good humour in to their conversations, and Hermione appreciated it more than she knew.

"Yes but at least you don't put people down." Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes at a nagging recollection of Malfoy in particular.

"I never saw the gain in that. I know I should have told Draco off for insulting you all the time but I didn't want to hear his mouth about it."

"Well…he was right about one thing – I _do_ have self-esteem issues."

"You felt awkward while we were walking here, didn't you? That's why you were staring. And just downstairs, too."

"You noticed?"

"You tend to frown like this," Fleur made an over-exaggeratedly frustrated frown and Hermione laughed warmly at the rendition, "whenever you have something like that on your mind." Hermione stopped and tried to think about her words but ended up laughing again, but with Fleur this time. "Of course it's silly now," Fleur managed while she calmed down, "but I _do_ notice. You're rather easy to read."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." Hermione gave Fleur a lopsided smile before sighing and taking her words to heart. "But, really, I've just been worrying myself over nothing. Certainly I do feel out of place, dressed the way I am… but I always dress like this. I couldn't dress like you even if I tried."

"Do you… _want_ to?"

"Do I want to?" Hermione looked surprised and chewed her food thoughtfully for a moment. "No one's ever really asked me, nor've I really considered it. I know you enjoy it but I don't _need_ to, if that's what you're thinking about. It's not as if I want or need anyone to notice me. Certainly not now, either."

"Have you ever sat down and wondered why I chose to wear what I'm wearing right now?"

"No… Oh… wait! To impress me, right..?"

"Yes." Fleur smiled and nodded; Hermione learnt well. "And your parents, of course."

"My parents are very taken with you, yes." Hermione smiled at this. "But if it's to impress _you…_ then sure, I'll try."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure, Fleur."

"Mmm…all right then. I'll surprise you tomorrow."

"If you insist." Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes at Fleur's cryptic tone and equally cryptic smile. She was glad that they'd _fixed_ things, first and foremost, however. It wasn't so hard, really. She vowed to remember this night should the need ever arise to really have a _talk_ with Fleur in the future. But she knew that she had simply made too big of a fuss over nothing last night. It was nothing.

Nothing at all.


	13. gravity

_twice as much ain't twice as good…_

_and can't sustain like one half could.._

_it's wanting more that's gonna send me to my knees.._

_whoa, gravity, stay the hell away from me…_

_and gravity, has taken better man than me.._

_now how can that be..?_

_just keep me where the light is..._

_~Gravity by John Mayer_

_**xiii.** _ _gravity_

_Fleur knew it was all a dream. It was but a dream, a nightmare, a revelation of her psyche – a weak, but still somehow so tender side of her that no one could ever know. It was maddening for her because she would try to wake up but a mad, mysterious force would always keep her eyes closed and mind reeling and imagining and taking her back to that horrible, horrible summer night. Run and hide – two words that she had learned to hate because they were the final two he had uttered. Just take us and leave – she said these, in French. Gabrielle…what could she do other than cry?_

_Tiny, bloodstained feet stomped the hardwood floor of her dying home whilst she tried to get out of the parlour and get Gabrielle to safety. The stomping was strangely rhythmic, spelling out a song of sedition, helplessness, false courage – no bravery. Her panting in the night air was tangling horribly with Gabrielle's pained crying, making her realise that she couldn't win this if not even her sister felt safe in her arms anymore. Her feet simply continued to run and run and run and run with no destination in mind other than a way to put as much distance as possible between her and the hooded tools that were sent to rip her world from underneath her feet. Her feet that were still bulldozing through the house and storming through, just like her fresh trauma of her parents being tortured so needlessly and horribly. Tears and sobs began to scratch her face and throat, not at all helping the little one in her arms. Fleur was growing frustrated at her inability to do anything right, to fix the situation, or to reverse it all…_

_After running past room after room down the nearly endless hallway, she heard a long string of laughter echo through her thundering ears. Before she could push the pain of her screaming lungs and heart and legs and feet behind her to speed up, she felt a stab of ice surge throughout, rendering her immobilised. Gabrielle was still able to writhe and scream, but that was immediately remedied with a flick of another Death Eaters' wand soon after. All laws of gravity were defied as the both of them were lifted from their respective places, more laughter ripping and tearing at their ears and making them want to cry even more while they were sent flying at nauseous speeds back from whence they came. The laughter reverberated through the walls more horribly than before when they found themselves, once again, back in the parlour with their parents._

_Gabrielle was sent crashing over to her crippled, blood-stained parents. Minor wounds, but just enough to keep them powerless. Fleur was suddenly granted with her Mother's wand from one of the Death Eaters, the rest laughing in glee at her horror-stricken face from being forced to stay rooted to the spot and watch her family suffer. Her home was in shambles, completely ruined; her family lay upon the destroyed couch that she'd spent many a lazy day in her Father's arms. Glass was shattered and scattered throughout, pictures were ruined, walls were seemingly melting; it was as if the entire house had turned into plasma to match the burning shame and sense of loss within. Powerlessness had wrapped its way around Fleur's mind the more and more and longer and longer she was forced to watch the bit of blood trickle down her parents' mouths and realise that their lives, her life, could end at any second. They were being toyed with – a mere_ game…

_The same one who had given her the wand in her hands had shouted something else and Fleur felt another trickle of ice throughout, but this one was different. Much, much more different – she lost the incessant fear nagging the back of her mind and the feel of the sobs that were stuck in the back of her throat. A feeling of innocence, bliss, obliviousness – it all overtook her and she forgot who, where,_ what _she was. A toy, a pawn, a prisoner – that was what she was. A sense of want or need or even awareness was lost upon her while she lost the feel of her very eyes in her once so frightened head._

_So real, the voices, mere ominous hisses, in her head were… The voices, telling her to hurt. To maim. To make the ones before her suffer, nicely, painfully… The ones before her would only hold her back in the long run, they said. They will only hinder her, impede her greatness… She is better than them and the voice sounded so sure of this. One day she will be great, and these three would not help her get there. Fleur did not agree, nor did she disagree – that ability was lost upon her. Ability? Awareness? She was aware that she was being told such nice things and that she was watching three others cower before her. She was also aware that she'd been granted a wand. A wand, to help her achieve her greatness. To make up for what she'd lost at that very hour – her pride, her dignity, her innocence, even._

_Revenge was exacted upon the three in front of her while her eyes shifted to a horrendously hollow hue of grey; the hissing merely floated the incantation to her mind and she'd began to sever skin, summon blood – the crimson shot from every which angle, cutting the walls red and black and blue and green and pink for all Fleur knew. The darkness and coldness in the house melded into an insatiable fulfilment, merging so wonderfully with their cries and screams to make her stop. A sinister smirk curled about Fleur's face while she continued to sever the ties with her family, their lives, her innocence, her sense of right and wrong; the blood and the screams spattering so nicely throughout the room was so invigorating, the voice said. And it was…it was…_

_But more needed to be done – finish the job and firmly plant her stronger feet on the world without the heathens before her. Kill and learn how to revel in the accomplishment of ridding the world more and more of all that could ever be in her way to greatness. One brandish of her wand took care of but one, and yet the laughing in her mind and the room flushed her system with warmth – there went her Father. One bellowing cry later, he was gone. And yet another shriek and flash of green light, her Mother. The increasing laughter almost muffled the sounds of her anguish, and she hated that. Or so said the voice. So she moved closer, closer to her sister that was barely blood and bones and still somehow alive and fighting._

_Fleur towered over the spasm-wracked form of her baby sister. Blue peered into each other, Fleur not registering that the effects of the Imperius Curse were waning. But, slowly, the realisation did sink in just as her form did into the blood at her feet while she continued to stand rooted to the spot. The wand in her hand continued to point down at her innocent, weak, powerless, defenceless little sister. Her own feelings of powerlessness began to leave her, sapping her slight euphoria and replacing it with a dangerously building waterfall of pain and guilt –_ now _she felt the built-up cries scratching her throat. The realisation at what she'd done, at her revel in the glory, at having lost the cursed_ game _they were all playing; it crippled her. And yet she continued to stand strong, knowing that she had lost. She refused to lose any further._

_One of the Death Eaters shrieked at her to hurry up and kill her sister. Hurry…up…? Hurry…? Taking her short life away was something that she'd never consider on her own and here they were, yelling and cackling like it were nothing. They couldn't see the pleading, helpless look in Gabrielle's eyes so far beneath her own. Fleur's were mere empty vessels, knowing that she couldn't do anything. She didn't have the power to spare her sister or even heal her wounds had they gotten out alive. She failed as a daughter, a sister, a human being; she deserved this fate. She deserved to kill and to live with the insurmountable guilt should the Death Eaters choose to spare her. She wished they would… She could see it now, getting down on hand and knee, begging to live, begging for the chance to let her sorrow drown her lest she killed herself first._

_So beautiful, beautiful… Beautiful, beautiful Gabrielle could have been. But her life, her happiness, her experiences; they were to end now. Gabrielle seemed to sense her sister's anguish and tried her hardest to crawl to Fleur, obviously seeing the apathy rip at her heart and make her knees tremble. Even after witnessing her sister commit such atrocities, only Gabrielle, sweet, sweet, innocent Gabrielle could read her haggard sister and realise that she didn't mean it. She didn't want to do it. Her understanding nearly tore Fleur's heart to white hot shreds; she wanted to fall to the floor and die with her sister now, but she needed repentance for her actions. She deserved it… She couldn't let Gabrielle see her live with her sorrow on her sleeve every day._

_End the possibility; rape it, maim it, battle it, snuff it, silence it rip it destroy it kill it – this she did._

_Fleur let a torrent of tears rip from her eyes while she brandished her Mother's wand one last time and sent her sister spinning, flying away from her; rigid she was, encapsulated in a coffin of green while one last horribly echoing cry ripped from her while Fleur drank in the last bit of life from her sister's wide, horror-stricken eyes._

_A valley of the same echoes settled throughout Fleur as she watched her lifeless sister settle so far away from her, the sea of laughter surrounding her long forgotten; the gorge severed her completely and even more that she finally became aware of what she'd done to her parents. The three of them lay in a heap by the melting walls, the four of them surrounded by the decaying heat that was Fleur's world. Rage and sorrow had begun to blend, and she could only stand and soak and absorb her weakness more and more in the form of a crimson pool at her feet and all around her. The sheen of her hair crashed so horribly with the red and black and nonsense surrounding her. The stench of decay, of loss; all of it nearly made her ill. All she could do was stare at her feet and wish and wish that she could make it so that they'd never have to touch ground ever again. Elevation, a way to run away from it, to make her seem above her grief.._

_It wasn't long before her heart began to adjust to the pain, freeze it, and let it fester inside of her. The tears had stopped and they refused to come anymore. The hissing and laughter soon stopped scratching at her and she had learned to master her sorrow. The truth that she killed her sister of her own free will, however dire the circumstances were, however, would always be with her; no matter how she tried to word it, it would always spell out a lie did she try to deny it. Acquired desperations, building high…she had to remember that this was just a game._

_A nightmare. A beautiful, beautiful nightmare of the night she learned to appreciate, to believe in lies._

* * *

Bright and early it was the next morning that Fleur shot up from bed, drenched in a pool of sweat. She pried her trembling mouth open in a desperate attempt to drink the oxygen surrounding her, getting the job done loudly but still not waking the one sleeping next to her. Fleur shut her eyes and slowly eased her panting self from bed without even looking at her; the shame was too much. Her eyes stung and her heart was thundering with the same feelings while she felt the shock of being ripped from her slumber consume her. A terribly head-splintering headache soon threatened to overtake her, but she tried her damndest to ignore it.

Taking a shower was out of the question – she feared that she'd opt to drown herself in lieu of having to think about the lurid recollections. Her nightmares had never plagued her so much, not for years. She wasn't even thinking while she hurried to unbutton her nightshirt and peel it from her drenched body. Her wand quickly remedied her hygiene and appearance before she reached in her packed luggage and hastily picked out the first shirt, pair of jeans, and old Converse that she could find. She quickly rammed the white tight-fitting shirt over her head, she nearly jumped in the black and silver jeans that were slightly ripped at the bottom, and raced to slip in the black and white trainers before Hermione could wake. The last thing she wanted was a concerned interrogation and any sympathy on her part; the very truth that she wanted it and needed it in and of itself was too much to bear.

Fleur quickly left the room and sighed deeply before creeping downstairs, wary of waking anyone else up quite yet; it was barely sunrise. The lightning slowly began to settle down within, but it was difficult to even deal with it while it lasted. Telling herself over and over to not think about it of course made her think about it far more than she liked. Her feet automatically wandered into the kitchen, though her soles felt tiny shocks throughout with each step she took – she was all too used to wearing heels now for her own, almost superstitious, reasons. There was a strong smell of sugar and lemon throughout the kitchen, and Fleur was thankful for it while she sat down heavily at the table, not at all putting the pieces together and realising that the kettle going meant that there was obviously someone else awake other than her.

"Fleur, my goodness, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Fleur kept from jumping in her seat with extreme difficulty while Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen and thankfully overlooked glancing at her to tend to the kettle. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think nothing of Fleur's silence while she prepared cups for the both of them, Fleur only speaking up to thank her while she took her cup, Mrs. Weasley sitting right across from her soon after with a warm smile upon her face. When Fleur couldn't strain herself to smile back and merely glanced to the side and almost hid behind her cup, the smile gradually subsided while Mrs. Weasley too took a few thoughtful sips of her tea.

The silence in the room other than swallowing and sipping slowly began to grate Fleur's nerves while she slowly began to emerge from the false security of hiding behind her cup. Seeing as her headache had not subsided, the annoyance was far more pronounced than it should have been. The sounds of eating and drinking were always something of great annoyance to her; her first experience with sitting at the Slytherin table during meal times next to Goyle seemed to say enough.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked gently. Fleur felt her head nearly steam from shame and anger for no reason in particular. She pondered lying or explaining everything, neither possibility exactly shining with more appeal than the other.

"No, I'm not." Fleur willed herself to at least keep the strength in her voice apparent if she couldn't brush off her indecision at the moment.

"I understand if you don't feel the need to explain," Mrs. Weasley said with a small smile, "but I do worry about you. Does it have anything to do with your fall?"

"My fall?" Fleur looked affronted. "No, no. I just have a horrible headache at the moment."

"Oh! Well, I see.. but you don't _usually_ wake up this early. And you aren't due to leave for a few more hours." Fleur only seemed to sour even more and Mrs. Weasley looked at her sadly. "Are you sure it's just your headache that's the matter, dear?"

"It's not. And it's not Hermione, either. I apologise but I'm just not a morning person and I don't particularly feel like going back to sleep." Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied with this answer, though Fleur still grumbled inwardly in irritation.

"Certainly, certainly – I understand completely. I'm also surprised to see you dressed so casually." Mrs. Weasley smiled in between sips of tea, probably knowing that discussing clothing was something Fleur ought to enjoy. "You usually dress differently."

" _Better,_ you mean?" Fleur raised her eyebrow and winced, though Mrs. Weasley seemed to take it as a playfully sarcastic expression.

"Oh no, no," Mrs. Weasley chuckled, "however you choose to dress is quite nice, really. Hermione seems to appreciate your sense of style, either way."

"Yes, she… _does."_

"Hmm… A brief change of subject, but why did you never choose to attend meetings?"

"I didn't want anyone to see me," Fleur explained calmly, "Dumbledore told me that your children, Harry and Hermione were staying at Grimmauld Place over the summer right when I joined and I didn't want them to get any ideas about my age."

"But of course. The twins told us of your age some weeks ago and Arthur and I sadly neglected to pretend to be surprised about it. As I'm sure you know, Albus and Severus certainly said their fair share of good things about you. The rest of us were quite eager to meet you, and some of us did. You were at the Ministry that night, Albus told us."

"Yes… I met most of the Order formally that night after the battle. Hermione and the others thankfully didn't notice me that night. I suppose I helped that along with a Disillusionment Charm; it would have been problematic had they seen me help them most of the way."

"True, true. But I believe Albus gave you a nice reward for your efforts, did he not?"

"Yes. It's in my room at Hogwarts. Hermione hasn't stumbled upon it yet, but I know I'm going to have to tell her."

"Oh, Fleur…" Mrs. Weasley set her cup down in a gesture of seriousness while she regarded Fleur warmly. "Hermione really is a wonderful young woman. I can't tell you how happy Arthur and I were when we found you two outside that afternoon! She'd written us a few times, telling us how amazing you are and how much you mean to her. It's been such a pleasure, finally meeting you and seeing for ourselves just how right she is. She really is marvellous, isn't she?"

"Of course she is…" Fleur too set her cup down and chose to look down at it, trying to hide from the now concerned look upon Mrs. Weasleys face but clearly failing to do so. "Maybe even _too_ marvellous…"

"Fleur dear why on _Earth_ would you say such a thing? Certainly she isn't suffocating you or anything? Oh, is she? I can _assure_ you she only means well—"

"Mrs. Weasley." Fleur raised her hand and sighed before lowering it once more. "Hermione really is as amazing as you describe and you think her to be; I'm not denying that. But I'm sure that Professors Dumbledore and Snape have told you a little more about me other than simply praise."

"Oh…well, yes… Both Severus and Albus did tell us that you've had a rough past and that you're not exactly one to pretend to enjoy someone's company. But you know that Hermione's just the sweetest thing. She'd _never_ mean you any harm, I assure you!"

"I know that.. I know. I know."

"Fleur, dear, don't tell me that you're frightened…"

"Frightened?" Fleur shot her gaze back up to Mrs. Weasley's equally serious one and clutched her cup in her hands.

"I'm not appalled or surprised by the possibility. You've been on your own for _years,_ and now you finally have a support-system."

"Hermione likes that I enjoy your family." Mrs. Weasley smiled at this but knew very well that Fleur was also trying to change the subject.

"She's _so_ kind-hearted, Fleur. And from what I've observed, she truly cares about you. She wants to help you through anything and everything as best as she can. Please promise me you'll take care of her.. I know she's strong, and so are you, but we're allowed a bout of weakness, most especially in the privacy of those we love."

"…I promise I'll take care of her, of course.. I don't know what else to do other than care for her."

"Oh, that's wonderful! You're _just_ what she needs – a strong, assured, mature woman. And you both have such strong personalities!"

"I've yet to see Hermione's _strong personality,_ I'm afraid. Not much more than glimpses since we've become friends, really."

"Well she is a bit shy sometimes, I suppose. But you're both still adjusting; I'm sure she'll surprise you. I can't express how happy I am for the both of you, and I know you'll make each other so much happier. You just keep your promise, won't you? For her."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Of course."

* * *

Fleur's headache had subsided substantially by the time they all arrived on the Platform minutes before eleven AM. She and Hermione were wearing the exact same outfit, Hermione having been pleasantly surprised that this was the _surprise_ Fleur supposedly had in mind for her. In reality, Fleur had lost her passion for trying to change Hermione's very personality, in a way, and instead took Hermione's compliments gracefully that her idea was entirely too sweet and romantic.

As they walked hand in hand through the crowded Platform, through the bit of steam and in between the path that people were slowly parting for them, Fleur held back a wince from the lingering vestiges of her head pains. She barely noticed Hermione had let go of her hand, smiling while she turned to embrace Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and even the twins goodbye. Fleur barely felt her body float along momentarily, the absence of Hermione's warmth entwined with her freezing hand soon making her come to a stop. The voices of everyone around her, of goodbyes, of love, of luck, of life – they slowly faded into nothing along with the steaming of the Hogwarts Express on her right.

Her flat feet felt as if they were suddenly frozen upon the cold ground. A bile of guilt and shame built within, spattering her system while she tried to ignore the recollections of her sins but still failing so horribly. A hiss-like bout of laughter settled in her mind, giggling and cackling and guffawing in such a surreptitious way that she scowled deeply at the emptying path before her. It was as if she'd stopped, and was panting slightly now, because of something that had materialised some yards in front of her while she could only hear the ominous sounds of her increasingly shallow breaths. A body. The body of a man. Certainly not her Father, and this man was certainly much more pale. And bald. And… _infuriating._ But still so… _familiar._ The red she saw seemed to be familiar, anyway—

If Fleur thought she was breathing fast before, it was nothing compared to how she was breathing now; two pairs of arms had spun her around to crush her with a hug. The near onslaught was maddening, as was the rest of the sounds on the Platform that finally seeped back into her mind. Fleur took a deep breath when Fred and George finally pulled away and beamed at her, Mr. Weasley soon stepping forward to hug her briefly and wish her well before his wife came to do the same. Fleur barely heard a reminder for her to keep her promise while they pulled away. Bill thankfully wasn't there and Charlie had returned to Romania the evening before.

Even though the snake-like laughter continued to echo slightly in her head, Fleur tried to take in the sight of the Weasleys for a bit longer. She was torn in between hurrying off so as to not appear nostalgic, but another part of her wanted them to see her gratitude. Though she was distracted by her inner troubles at the moment, she tried to ignore them while she stood and regarded them all even after the others had boarded, assuming Fleur was right behind them. Fleur felt the need to say something…anything.

"I.. Well… Thank you. All of you."

"Even us?" Fred grinned.

"Yes, even you," Fleur chuckled, ignoring the searing pain in her head from having done so.

"I must say I'm simply quite honoured," said Mr. Weasley, "it _really_ has been a pleasure meeting you, Fleur. Do take good care of Hermione."

"I already had her promise she would, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.

"She did," Fleur said curtly, "I assure you I will."

"Good," said George, "or we may just have'ta come and take care of you if you don't!"

"Right he is," Fred nodded, "Hermione's our little angry angel, she is."

"Angry angel…?"

"Well yeah!" George said. "See, she was always gettin' peeved at us 'n our rule breakin'. I hear she's loosened up _quite_ a _bit,_ though."

"That she has," said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows as he did. Fleur gave them a winning smile and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure I know what you mean. But anyway, I have to head off."

"You'll come visit us over summer, won't you?" Mr. Weasley asked expectantly.

"Hermione's comin'!" said Fred. "So of course Fleur is too!"

"He's right," Fleur nodded. "I'll see you then."

"Cheers!" said the twins while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed and waved goodbye. Fleur swallowed a foreign knot in her throat while she nodded, still smiling while she returned the gesture before turning to leave. She also had to blink a few more times than normal while she boarded the train, fighting a powerful urge to turn back and look at them one last time.

* * *

Once the train finally began to leave the Platform, Fleur was still searching incessantly for Hermione, not really caring about the others possibly being with her. The eyes gaping at her through compartment windows had long started to go over Fleur's head while she continued her search, sighing in frustration for the umpteenth time when she reached yet another dead end and still no signs of Hermione. Fleur ran a frustrated hand through her hair and tried to remain calm, but that was a little hard to do when she was still feeling aggravated about the morning's events so far.

The pain in her head attacked her again, and she nearly shouted out in pain when a compartment door flung open and a pair of hands yanked her inside and shoved her down to sit. Fleur shut her eyes and put a hand over her head while she grumbled under her breath, wondering when Hermione had grown so impatient and reckless, and even how her hands had grown so large..

"Fleur."

Her eyes shot open just as the compartment door closed itself; she lowered her hand and saw that Draco was the one who had addressed her. He and Pansy were sitting across from her, Blaise next to her. The three of them looked as if they were holding back a multitude of nasty expressions that they no doubt wanted to throw at her. Their fake efforts were so blaringly apparent that Fleur nearly scoffed, but she kept her silence.

They all sat in a strained silence for some minutes. Fleur was completely still, boring her eyes into Draco's uncertain grey ones. He kept smoothing his hair down, not at all helping the slick down his head stay in place with his possibly nervous fidgeting. Pansy kept twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers and staring at her clasped ankles. Blaise had his arms folded, clearly torn in between at least looking at Fleur or watching the scenery outside as the train raced past the greenery.

"Are you really not even going to say anything?" Draco asked dryly. Fleur showed no sign of acknowledgement. "Goddamnit, Fleur, make this any harder than it actually is why don't you?"

"I _think_ what he's trying to say," Pansy began quietly, "is that he's…he's…s.. _sorry_ for what he did. And so'm I."

"Me too," Blaise mumbled.

"Yeah, that's right," said Draco pompously. Fleur pursed her lips and the small smile upon Draco's face was lost. "..I'm sorry."

Fleur shook her head and stood, fully intent on leaving but Draco stood in front of the compartment door and looked up at her uncertainly. He only received a leer and promptly flinched; Fleur was extremely suspicious of them all and did not want to even be seen with them ever again for what they did. She wanted to go off on Draco in particular for insulting Hermione so, but she held her tongue and instead held him by the collar to guide him from her path. Draco stumbled over and out of her way, and Fleur barely put her hand on the door to open it before he finally broke his façade.

"So that's how you're gonna be, ah? We finally give you what you want and you blow us off?" Draco said contemptuously. Fleur took a deep, quiet breath and turned to face him, but said nothing. The boy tensed and balled his fists at his side at her silence, obviously looking as if he was expecting a better reaction. "What's wrong with you? Dating that tramp's got you all funny in the head!"

"Draco…" Pansy said warningly, but he paid her no mind. Never mind as to how they'd gotten the validation that Fleur and Hermione were actually an item; Fleur brushed it off to him merely making a correct assumption for once in his life.

"We sat down with you and apologised!" Draco spat. "But you're still acting all stuck-up! What the hell—"

"Draco will you shut up?" Pansy admonished. Draco whipped around momentarily to confront her but Fleur slipped out the door. "Now look what you did! How thick can you get?"

"Whatever, you," Draco scoffed. He stuck his head out the door to shout at Fleur's retreating figure. "Don't expect anything from us ever again, you traitor! You wanna act like a bitch then you'll get treated like one! You _and_ your Mudblood girlfriend! We'll see just how quiet you are then! You'll get what you deserve soon enough! She's not good enough for you, Fleur! You'll learn the hard way, I swear it!"

Fleur felt a powerful urge to run back and make pay for his words and how he was acting, but she bit back her rising blood pressure and sighed; they must have thought she was stupid. Just as she shoved down any scenarios of her possibly taking her anger out on any of them, she noticed Harry standing right in front of her while she walked past more compartments with people of course staring out at her. Fleur didn't bother smiling at him while she reached him. Harry gave her a concerned look while he ushered her inside, and Fleur wasn't even in the compartment for two seconds before Hermione hugged her fiercely and led them both to sit down. Fleur felt a distinct heat rise to her face while she continued to hold Hermione while they sat down, burying her head in her neck so as to avoid having to say anything.

Ron and Ginny were also in the compartment but chose to speak quietly with Harry while the three of them sat across from Fleur and Hermione. Hermione was choosing to not say anything as well. Fleur was trying her hardest to cool her forehead on the smooth of Hermione's neck while she placed her legs on the seat and bent them at her side. She stayed like that for the entire ride, falling in and out of sleep in between swallowing more knots in her throat, memorising the rhythm and sound of Hermione's breathing while trying to synchronise her own with them, savouring the warmth of the arms wrapped about her tired body and the lips and soft cheek resting atop her head. Hermione was whispering to her; the soothsays were gliding down her sheet of silvery blonde and making her all too aware of her heartbeats against her chest.

Whispers to not pay Draco any mind, that it's fine if she doesn't want to talk, sorry for losing her, and that it was alright if she was having a bad day so far. Fleur tried to fill her senses with Hermione's words kissing her warm roots and to ignore how loudly her mind was screaming that she _wouldn't_ be having a bad day if she didn't treasure Hermione more than anyone. She shoved the horrible notion down and hid it away, never to return.

* * *

They all merely put their robes over their clothes just before the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station that night. Fleur tried to at least put on her white Hogwarts-issued blouse underneath as well to set some kind of example as Head Girl. Still, her tie was knotted loosely just as it always was. She was to make sure that everyone got off the train just before it left the Station, but she still left with the others to at least get a taste of the fresh air for a moment. She smoothed down her black and emerald robes just as the five of them got off, but someone had conveniently found them not even five seconds after they'd done so.

"Mark my words, Fleur," Draco said loudly as he passed and nearly shoved her as he did, "you think you're so much better with her, without _us,_ but you're dead wrong. Don't be surprised if you wake up with mud all in your veins tomorrow morning after you snog her goodnight."

"Oi, clear off," Ron barked, "no one wants to hear your crap, Malfoy!"

"Oh, not to mention your money'll magically disappear, hanging with that lot," Draco sneered, Pansy and the others could only stand and watch while he swaggered over to Fleur who was looking at her hand clasped in Hermione's. "Unless you've spent it all on her. You can't buy worth and self-esteem, Fleur. _Or_ good looks. She's about as ugly as Millicent Bulstrode. She must have you under a damn Imperius Curse or something, _dating_ you—"

"Just _**stay away from me!"**_ Fleur yelled. " _And_ Hermione. I _mean_ it."

Draco balked at her reaction and the dangerous flash her eyes had given him seconds before; everyone else had even felt a nearly overwhelming drowning sensation of her thrall. Hermione in particular nearly jumped from the flow of energy and allure but she knew better, Draco nearly having done the same. He knew he crossed the line and _clearly_ wasn't even thinking. Fleur was still leering at him; Hermione was holding her back slightly while trying hard to _not_ scowl at him. Draco swallowed and ran a hand over his head but Fleur wasn't in the mood for his non-verbal apologies.

"Malfoy, I think you ought to just leave," Hermione said diplomatically; she knew exactly why Fleur reacted the way she did and wasn't particularly thrilled with his being around them, him being Draco or not.

"Look Fleur I'm _sorry,"_ Draco said with a scary amount of sincerity, "but you're just not acting like yourself—"

"Malfoy," said Harry reprovingly, "you heard them."

"Who asked you, Potter—"

"Goodbye, ferret," Ginny said sternly. Draco scoffed at her and Harry stepped in front of her.

"You heard us," he glowered.

"What? You all her new bodyguards or something?" Draco said jokingly, his attempt at a smirk clearly weak to everyone, including himself just as he winced at Fleur's leer.

"Do you like gettin' yelled at or what?" Ron asked sceptically. "'Cause you sure as hell aren't winnin' right now. Beat it, already."

"What do you know, Weaselbee?" Draco sneered, albeit unconvincingly. "Ain't you oughtta be a little jealous of 'em?" Ron folded his arms and snorted.

"I _support_ them. Unlike you. Some best friend you are, insultin' Fleur like that. How can you just stand here 'n call yourself apologisin' but you're insultin' 'er 'n Hermione? If you knew what's worth you'd be supportin' her no matter what like you _promised_ you would."

Draco frowned and tried to apologise again but Fleur had already whipped around to return to the train to tend to her duties that he was _supposed_ to be helping with. He seemed to remember while he looked down at his Head Boy badge before taking a step forward, but Hermione scowled at him and shook her head while she ran off to catch up with Fleur. Blaise came over to collect his friend and dragged him ahead with Pansy and the others. Harry, Ron and Ginny turned to nod to Hermione before she disappeared on the train, the three of them trudging ahead and making a point to walk past the Slytherins on their way to the carriages.

Fleur kept her lips pursed while she began her thorough search of the compartments for sleeping students. She noticed Hermione out of the corner of her eye walking down another corridor to do the same. Her efforts helped to dissipate her anger somewhat while she at least made an effort to keep a calm expression. Just as she thought she was done, she did stumble upon two students that weren't _sleeping;_ they were still sitting there, one pointing out and commenting serenely on various nature life while the other watched and nodded. Fleur opened the compartment door to make herself known but the two didn't turn. She cleared her throat and folded her arms while she leaned on the door – that certainly worked. The one that was speaking merely smiled calmly at her while the other looked horrified.

"F-Fleur!" Neville said shrilly. He immediately looked around and stood up, quickly making his friend follow suit. "We've arrived, haven't we?"

"Yes, Neville," Fleur said evenly, now turning to raise an eyebrow at his companion while she moved from the doorframe and out of their way as they left the compartment.

"Why hello Fleur," said Luna serenely, "lovely evening, isn't it? I was just telling Neville about the—"

"Nargles in the trees, I'm sure," Fleur remarked dryly, wincing as she did so, "while that's all good and well, I need you to understand that the train won't leave until I give them the okay. Might I kindly suggest that you leave before all the carriages are taken?"

"Certainly," Luna said curtly, "though you are mistaken – I've only seen nargles in mistletoe. They're quite persistent, though they _might_ be in regular trees. Have you seen any—"

"Luna," Fleur said sternly, not one to have much patience for the younger Ravenclaw Prefect, "please. Take Neville and leave. You'll miss your… _pudding."_

"Oh, you _are_ very, very right, Fleur," Luna said placidly while Hermione walked over to the scene and stood next to Fleur, looking extremely perplexed. "Oh hello, Hermione," said Luna brightly, "Fleur and I were just—"

"L-leaving," Neville stammered just as Fleur was about to retort. Fleur nodded curtly to him before he blushed profusely and dragged his friend off the train.

"Interesting friends of yours," Fleur said as Hermione took her hand while they went to go see the driver.

" _You_ said it, not me," Hermione smiled. Fleur chuckled and shook her head.

* * *

"So I know we haven't really been able to talk today," Hermione said apologetically while she stared at the path in front of them; they did indeed miss the carriages but were still happy to walk alone anyway. "I've just had this feeling that you're not feeling yourself today. _Other_ than Malfoy being a right git…"

"How can you tell?" Fleur asked gently, deeply interested in Hermione's perception.

"Well, for starters, you never wake up first.. I was worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

"I'm sorry…"

"No, it's fine.. But that brings up another point before I get back to any of that."

"I'm listening."

"We never talked about our.. _sleeping arrangements._ Surely you don't want to go back to sleeping on your own. Unless tonight you need your space or anything, I understand completely."

"No, no. I _want_ you to sleep in my room with me. I hate that Draco's room is on the other side of the Common Room but he won't say anything to you. He doesn't have the heart to insult _you_ to your face but he'll try to belittle me. As if I'm suddenly going to change my mind about you and instead go back to letting him hide behind me."

"He does… _care_ about you," Hermione reasoned, "in a strange way. I for one can't understand how he could possibly say those things then turn right around and try to apologise."

"He and the others said sorry when he yanked me in their compartment. But I got the feeling that they were being fake about it. At any rate, I don't care about them. They turned their backs on me before and I don't trust them anymore."

"All right. I'm sure they'll leave you alone from now on, though."

"I almost can't wait to leave this place."

"Why's that?"

"I'd like to get away from this petty drama and not have to deal with _kids_ trying to undermine us. I'm too old for this, and so are you, really."

Hermione actually laughed at the truth and Fleur soon found herself laughing right along with her; she _did_ have a point, however sad it was.

"Just a bit longer," Hermione said, "then we can get on with our lives. Speaking of which, I haven't any idea what it is you want to do after we graduate."

"I don't either," Fleur said coolly. Hermione looked up at her with surprise.

"Really? But you've plenty of talents; _surely_ you'd be able to get into just about anything you aim for. What did Professor Snape advise you when we had our Career Counselling?"

"He just said to take the N.E.W.T. level courses of the classes that I enjoy."

"You got O's on all your O.W.L.s?"

"Yes. So there really wasn't an issue with getting the classes I wanted."

"I see.."

"The future was never very bright to me before, Hermione. I held a bit of disdain about it for a long time up until just recently."

Fleur made sure to smile warmly when Hermione merely continued to regard her with a bit of mild shock. Hermione seemed to understand after a few moments and returned the smile, both of them going back to shyly walking as close as possible, making sure to mirror each others' walking and breathing still while they continued on in silence. They ended up taking quite a long time and opted to skip dinner, instead sneaking off to Fleur's quarters before any of the other Slytherins could return to the Common Room.

* * *

The month passed with surprising ease – Draco had resorted to staying silent altogether whenever Fleur was around, sans Hermione or otherwise. He seemed to be torn in between anger and appearing to be genuinely apologetic, but Fleur was not obliged to care. It wasn't until that day at the end of January that she did begin to care about something else that Hermione had been progressively helping her with.

The two decided to spend time flying together to have Fleur get over her fears and for Hermione to learn how to fly. But while Fleur's fears seemed to have gotten progressively slim extremely quickly, Hermione had begun to notice something that sprung up sometime around the middle of the month. It was relatively infrequent, but now that they were standing out in the snowy Quidditch Pitch while everyone else was inside enjoying the warmth of the castle, it began to come up again.

Fleur eased her body to lean on Hermione, shortly making it so that they were both on the ground, Fleur atop Hermione. Hermione observed Fleur's expression carefully just above hers; it was one of playful lust and teasing. Fleur's emerald-clad body was curled about, her gloved hands were over Hermione's cheeks, and her eyes were darkened, hazy, lust-filled; she didn't usually have a mischievous smirk upon her visage whenever she silently asked to kiss her. Hermione scowled deeply when Fleur merely chuckled at her confusion and inched her rosy lips tantalisingly close to her own. Fleur inhaled a good deal of the crisp afternoon air while she looked down at Hermione with parted lips, seemingly unaware or uncaring of Hermione's obvious anger and confusion with her behaviour.

"What's wrong, chère..?" Fleur breathed dangerously. Hermione scowled even more, if possible, and yet still held Fleur tighter than before.

"You're acting rather _odd._ You've _been_ acting this way for a couple of weeks now. Would you mind explaining what it is you're doing…?"

"I can't be close to you like this…?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"Draco used to tell me that a lot…"

"Fleur, you're confusing me. Now tell me what your problem is—"

The problem was told, but not in any certain terms, verbal or otherwise – Hermione's mind had become quite befuddled and her expression slightly bedazzled while Fleur chose to kiss her now and talk later. Hermione was becoming increasingly frustrated by Fleur's unwillingness to explain herself whenever she would go through these _phases;_ what was worse was that she supposedly had no recollection of her ever experiencing them once they were over. They never occurred in class or whenever they were in the castle at all; _always_ when they were outside.

Though Hermione wanted answers, and answers she wanted quite badly, Fleur's mouth had an uncanny ability of expunging her worries and replacing them with an infinitesimal regard for the problem at hand and instead made her far more pleased with the pleasures at mouth. Fleur's lips were always so much hungrier and softer and fuller and wanton whenever she was like this; Hermione responded appropriately when she could, somehow letting her fears fuel her explorations. Fleur's hands were never rough; they were always gentle with Hermione in mind. It was always just her mouth. Her tongue was voracious, her teeth nibbled teasingly at every chance, her navel was forever pressing sensually into Hermione's and her sighs and _other_ sounds of approval were always wonderfully warming to Hermione's ears.

Despite how extremely marvellous it all was, Hermione steadily still demanded answers more stubbornly each time it happened. Fleur always won, and they were always right back to the castle right when she had her fill, having forgotten any shift in personality had ever happened. It inevitably happened once again, and they were right back in the safety of the castle, Fleur calmly going on about her interest in the next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and Hermione thoroughly baffled while they walked through the Entrance Hall to the dungeons.

"Mmm, that bulletin just now said they're starting the Duelling Club back up again," Fleur said with a broad smile.

"Oh really?" Hermione asked, trying to mask her frustration and confusion with matters.

"Mhm. I assume they're only going to brush through the boring basics. Child's play, really. Unless you want to join again."

"I'd rather not."

"Good. I can probably teach you more than what's allowed in there, anyway. If you _want_ me to, that is."

"If you insist." Hermione was hardly thinking about the conversation, let alone her responses to Fleur's lilts.

"We can take a break from flying and practise outside, then. It should be… _interesting."_

"Interesting… Yes.. yes of course…"


	14. love me tender

_january.._

_has april's showers.._

_and two and two.._

_always makes up five…_

_it's the devil's way now.._

_there is no way out…_

_you can scream and you can shout.._

_it is too late now…_

_because.._

_you have not been.._

_payin' attention…_

_~2+2=5 by Radiohead_

_**xiv.** _ _love me tender_

_Fleur had thankfully stopped showing her strange signs of behaviour some weeks later; this was especially good news to Hermione as they just so happened to be outside at the present time. This was mainly because Fleur had insisted on saving their duelling sessions until after a certain weekend. Stripped scarves, emerald and platinum, crimson and gold; they contrasted starkly between the two women as compared to everyone else milling about outside who were standing in any type of close proximity. The scarves about their necks were easily negligible, their black cloaks equally useless – they were both convinced that their gloved hands that were interlaced would always be enough to keep them warm no matter where they were._

_As it was, it was February fourteenth, a Saturday, and it was Hogsmeade Weekend – Valentine's Day. Needless to say, and knowing Fleur, Hermione was being treated to some mysterious venue late that afternoon. It was nearing sunset, and Fleur insisted that they waste copious amounts of time in their room together before then for some strange reason. Hermione was grinning too much to mind, even with the near endless flock of on-looking students gaping at them so. The snow was beginning to melt somewhat, but a fair bit of a coat of white still lay on the ground at their feet while they continued to walk into town. The skies were clear and bright and Fleur's eyes were even brighter while she gazed down at Hermione with a playfully suspicious grin upon her face. Hermione kept smiling up at her while she willed a look of content and question right when Fleur stopped and turned to face her._

" _Here's our venue," Fleur said, though her conviction was lacking; she was giggling far too much for Hermione to take her seriously. Hermione whereupon laughed warmly at her while Fleur also held her other hand in her own. "Hm? Why are you laughing at me? I worked hard on this!"_

" _Oh, but of course," Hermione giggled. The allegedly crestfallen expression upon Fleur's cracking face merely made her laugh even more, Fleur herself even snorting slightly to contain her own laughter. "You're no good at keeping secrets, so you might as well tell me what you're really up to."_

" _I'm taking you on a date and here we are." Fleur managed to keep a straight face for a whopping five seconds, and Hermione merely continued to smile up at her while she rolled her eyes at the woman's antics. "Why don't you believe me?"_

" _Fleur, I think I know well enough by now that you're far more extravagant than this. In a good way, of course." Hermione shook her head at Fleur's feigned expression of shock. "Besides, you're usually quiet, but if you're up to something then you giggle."_

" _Mmm, I don't know about that last part, Hermione.. But you're spoiled, I see. Besides, what's more extravagant than holding hands and looking at each other while the rest of the world passes us by…?"_

" _Oh honestly Fleur.. This is very romantic and everything but what_ are _you up to—"_

_Fleur chose not to respond and instead situated their hands so that one of hers was on Hermione's waist, the other still holding her hand, while Hermione's other hand was now on her shoulder. There was a generous amount of space in between everyone else and them, and Fleur decided to take advantage of this, and Hermione's fresh confusion, by smiling the widest and brightest smile Hermione had ever seen while she tangoed with her across the snowy road. Fleur looked down at Hermione warmly and gave a loud lilting laugh at her befuddlement. They continued to dance in the middle of the entire school almost, and the second Hermione finally did find the will to smile affectionately at the gesture did Fleur's eyes seem to light up even more._

_Hermione was soon laughing, almost too hard, at Fleur's wonderful singing in such a_ random _Bulgarian accent, telling tales of a maiden named Herm-own-ninny in a periwinkle blue dress. Fleur was dancing with Hermione the exact same way she observed her and Viktor doing at the Yule Ball she did not attend but chose the perfect time to peek inside. The tales ranged from the beautiful Herm-own-ninny being stubborn and yet still so coy, easily able to hide her inner wonders with boldness and bravado that was entirely too attractive, to one of the now Hermione who was dancing with an_ extravagant _Frenchwoman for all eyes to see. Fleur assured Hermione that she wasn't ashamed of a thing when it came to her, and she'd prove it every single day._

_Before Hermione could show any more emotion to Fleur at being so nicely overwhelmed, Fleur dipped her low and brought her lips down to meet hers in the same swooping gesture. Hermione moaned immediately, letting her eyes flutter closed right when Fleur deepened the kiss even more, if possible. The effect shot a syringe of ardour within, easily sending her flying with Fleur cradling her in her arms, threatening to pierce the skies and few clouds above. Hermione wrapped her arms about Fleur's neck and felt an amazing shock when she felt a daring knee creep amid her thighs and settle right in between her. Fleur's knee worked nicely in between her warming legs, easily synchronised with her soft lips prodding at hers. It was a wonderfully warming effect, coupled with the warmth of their tongues gently lapping at each others', making a unique shivery spasm settle throughout and elicit distinct moans of approval on both their parts._

_Before they could get too ahead of themselves, Hermione soon found herself swooped in Fleur's strong arms and treated to contented sighs echoing nicely in the woman's chest. Hermione licked her swollen lips and smiled while Fleur kept her lips atop her head, whispering and confirming her suspicions that there was nothing in Hogsmeade for them except for romantic dilly dallying;_ just because _. The surrounding crowd looked on in awe while Fleur carried Hermione back to the warmth of the castle, unfortunately not able to see the incredibly, almost out of place look of serenity in both of their eyes. All the while, Fleur kept going on and on in an amazed, gentle voice of how she had a dream of taking Hermione to the stars._

_As it was, Hermione was completely right in her conviction that Fleur was far more extravagant about things – she was soon back in their room, alone, though for good reason. She was indeed wearing a little black dress this time, instead of her periwinkle one, and a matching pair of heels to surprise Fleur. Her new hair colour was certain to also do the trick – dark chocolate brown to match_ their _scent. She choose to keep her hair down and sleek as always, but of course making an effort to put a little more sheen in for the occasion._

_Fleur was to pick her up in just a few moments' time, and Hermione was already grinning incessantly while she ceaselessly wondered exactly what Fleur had in mind for her that evening. Fleur had insisted that Hermione leave the day and night to her, and that Hermione was welcome to make up for it at a later date. Hermione found Fleur's efforts to take care of her and treat her like a Queen entirely too romantic, but she resolved herself to making it all up to Fleur as best as she could over time, most especially on a certain August the seventeenth later in the year._

_Hermione bit her lip and had to keep from squealing – Fleur had chosen to knock on the door instead of barging in. Hermione checked her appearance one last time to make sure that her dark eye shadow and bit of mascara were still flawless before she went to open the door, trying her hardest to hurry there and fix herself once she was there so as to not make it seem as if she'd rushed at all. She took a deep, giddy breath as she smoothed down the front of her dress and opened the door, not too fast and not too slow; just slow enough to reveal with increasing anticipation that was Fleur standing just outside the door._

_Hermione gave a very coy smirk while she gazed up at Fleur's eyes that weren't nearly as high up from her own anymore, but still higher nonetheless. Hermione raised a sculpted eyebrow when all Fleur could do was gape politely in obvious pleasant surprise, but Fleur herself was also looking rather different for a change; her tailored black suit with a glossy black collar was very, very sexy on her. Even the shiny black tie and smooth chocolate brown dress shirt underneath was a wonderful touch. Her black men's shoes were polished and sharp to match her hair that was actually up in a tight ponytail for once in her life. Hermione had to again keep from squealing and sighing contentedly when Fleur briefly snapped out of her reverie and bent down to kiss her hand._

" _You found my favourite dress, I see," Fleur murmured while she looked up at Hermione, still bent down in a respectful manner. Hermione nodded curtly, fearing her face would soon burn off from smiling so much._

" _You didn't say what colour you were wearing so I figured black would be best to match with whatever you decided on."_

" _Mmm…and your hair…make-up…"_

" _You like?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow as she did and noticing the way Fleur's lips quivered while she nodded and stood up straight._

" _I love it.."_

" _I'm glad… You do look very handsome, by the way."_

" _Only for you."_

_Hermione gave Fleur yet another coy smirk after closing the door behind her and locking it, and she yet again had to keep from squealing when Fleur offered her arm. Hermione of course took it gracefully, loving how warm and smooth the texture of Fleur's suit was on her arm and shoulder while they walked with their heads held high out of the empty Common Room. Well, it wasn't_ entirely _empty – they both noticed Draco and Pansy sitting by the fire, gaping at them as they left with their noses stuck in the air in jest and pure glee. They paid them absolutely no mind while they left and exited to the dungeons._

_Fleur didn't say where they were going, but she did say to expect food. Hermione wasn't led terribly far from the dungeons, and it was even in a place that she'd failed to notice was even there before. But of course, she could count on Fleur to know the finer intricacies of the castle than herself, and probably even Harry with his Marauder's Map. It was rather surreal, really, because they were walking down a corridor that led to a dead end. Hermione thought Fleur rather crazy for still walking anyway, but she didn't dare stop and instead continued on with her own heels clicking in their ears instead of Fleur's. Despite them nearing the dead end, Hermione continued on, and she kept on with complete confidence that Fleur wasn't trying to pull a fast one on her._

_Her confidence continued to float through her, elating her almost to cover her nerves while they neared the wall. Fleur wasn't stopping any time soon, it seemed. They kept walking, walking, walking, walking; Hermione was expecting them to walk right into the wall but that didn't happen – they walked right through it, the stone seemingly melting to fit the contours of their bodies and slowly dissolving into ripples that eventually reformed the illusory hardness of the material once they'd walked through. Hermione was so busy trying to look back in shock at the wall that she didn't realise that Fleur had let go of her and had swiftly vanished from sight. Hermione stopped abruptly, her heels scoffing loudly against the dark marble floor at her feet, and she nearly blew herself up from taking in such a large breath of sheer amazement once she took in her surroundings._

_She should have thought more of Fleur's dream – she was entirely surrounded by the dark night sky and billions of stars dotted around her head, the full moon even shining wonderfully some distance away, high in the Enchanted sky. The universe was seemingly all around her; it was her ceiling and walls, while the marble floor at her feet reflected everything so nicely, including the blown away expression upon her face. After she took nearly hours of time noticing how perfectly aligned the constellations were all around her, she finally looked back down and noticed a piece of parchment just at her feet. She bent down to retrieve it and smiled at the elegant handwriting that was what she supposed her first bit of help in her search for Fleur._

Take your Character Number and go that many steps forward, then turn in the direction of which hand of mine it was that you shook and held first. Multiply your Number by four and walk forward by that many steps.

_Hermione smiled with an absurd about of giddiness while she followed the instructions with ease; Fleur had quickly figured out, or secretly memorised, that her Character Number was four that morning of their first Arithmancy lesson at the beginning of the year. Hermione also remembered with ease that it was Fleur's right hand she shook and held that night so many months ago, and continued to hold for many weeks after._

_Once she'd done that much, she smiled even more when she found another bit of parchment right at her feet. This one was a tad more difficult to figure out than the first one, but she was still able to follow it with her grin forever adorning her face. It was rather invigorating for Fleur to have thought of riddles for Hermione to solve, and the thought behind all of them was so terribly sweet of her. It wasn't until she got past the fifth note that they became extremely difficult, but she rather enjoyed the challenge. Sadly, this note in her hands seemed to be the last one, and for good reason. But it was still extremely, extremely endearing of Fleur to have thought of such a thing._

You'll find me where our body of stars meet on the sky every day and night, most notably the night when you _found_ me.

_Hermione's eyes lit up a great deal while she looked up to see where she was; the constellations Fleur spoke of were some distance away. The one that she was under did help to guide her to their constellations, however difficult her celestial clues may have been to read – Fleur was a Leo and Hermione was a Virgo. Their vertigo incident happened on the night when Virgo was coming in and Leo was leaving…_

_It wasn't long before Hermione had walked the distance she needed to go, still smiling her face clear off her head, most especially when she finally did find Fleur standing with her back to her and her hands clasped behind her back. Fleur turned just as Hermione reached her and gave her a very dazzling smile, her pearly whites easily rivalling the glow of the moon not too far away. They soon stepped into a warm embrace, and just like every time Hermione tried to get a perfect feel of how the contours of Fleur's body fit so wonderfully into her own. Soon after a very zealous from Fleur, she noticed a very_ extravagant _table for two right behind her. Fleur was a gentleman as always and pulled Hermione's chair out for her to sit first, and soon Hermione was smiling at the woman right across from her and her nose was filling wonderfully with the smell of the meals and wine before them._

" _I take it you had fun with my riddles?" Fleur asked good-humouredly._

" _I did, actually." Hermione finally let out a long-overdue contented sigh. "You're the sweetest thing, Fleur. You really, really,_ really _are.. I can't even begin to tell you how flattered I am right now, more so than usual of course."_

" _Mmm…I bet you'll feel even more flattered once you taste your seafood."_

" _Oh really?"_

" _Mhm. Go on – try it."_

_Fleur picked up her outermost fork from the utensils laid out in front of them, and Hermione followed her example. The two of them sampled their food at the same time, and the grin on Hermione's face easily became more pronounced; the lobster was scrumptious and already had the perfect amount of lemon juice added throughout for flavouring. The grin on Fleur's face seemed to be one of great accomplishment, and Hermione kept her smile while she looked at her sceptically._

" _I cooked," Fleur explained. Hermione's jaw fell a tic and Fleur merely chuckled at her. "I of course had a lot of help from the House Elves.. but I did all of the actual cooking on my own. The wine I was able to get from them and they were surprisingly generous about it. It took me quite a few times to get this all just right but it was worth it."_

" _How long have you been working on this…?"_

" _I've been working on these same two meals, yours mostly, for the past two weeks.. Well, needless to say I nearly burned the kitchens and I got so frustrated that I almost gave up. I've never had to cook anything before in my life, you see… But I told them at first that it was for you and they were very eager to help me. Mrs. Weasley was rather surprised to find me back at the Burrow last week, looking rather haggard and asking how to broil lobster.."_

" _How.. but…you've been with me this whole time—okay maybe not, but.. Fleur, you… You didn't have to do this..."_

"This _is why I postponed our duelling practise because I knew I'd probably be a terrible cook at first, but I have gotten a lot better."_

" _Is this why you've been so tired all the time..?"_

" _Mmm, yes, I suppose. Sneaking off to go improve my rudimentary cooking skills while you sleep is what I've been doing. And working on this Enchantment. This room is a lot like the Room of Requirement but it's just a completely empty, large room behind an illusory wall. No one bothers with it. But I used to come here a lot whenever I'd wander around over breaks."_

" _Fleur.. I don't even know what to say.. But, thank you_ so _much. For everything, really..."_

" _You're welcome.. You're very welcome. But eat up – I need to explain a few more things. Things I think you need to know."_

_Hermione nodded and mirrored Fleur's neutral expression while she gladly continued to eat the rest of her meal in between giving Fleur her undivided attention. Fleur's face slowly but surely began to materialise into a coy expression seeing as how she wasn't exactly used to expressing herself in such a way. She seemed to appreciate Hermione's patience, and Hermione was all too happy to give it to her – Fleur was of course still stunning as always, and even her spot of shyness was endearing while she too did her best to eat, seemingly using her food as a distraction at times._

_But, more than anything, the things that Fleur were saying did indeed help Hermione realise just how much her own face was reddening right along with Fleur's._

" _I know that I should do things like this more often, not just on Valentine's Day or other occasions like this. Believe me – I_ want _to but I end up hesitating because I don't want to smother you. And I am still adjusting to this.. somewhat. I know I probably seem confident all the time, but it's really from me smiling like an idiot because of how silly I feel. But it's a good kind of silly. Really, it is._

" _It's almost as if something, some voice deep inside of me, keeps telling me to just give myself to you all the time. Just let go completely and fall.. and I have been. In a few months I won't be surprised if I can't get through the day without being able to kiss you. Even in class, it's hard…having to restrain myself. The voices used to scare me but it's possible that it's just a powerful intuition._

" _I do admit that my sexual drive tends to overwhelm me at times, but I'm not aiming to rush into anything. I promise I won't pressure you about it. But I have been.. thinking about you that way. You, and only you. I'm not embarrassed about it, as it is supposedly part of my nature to feel perfectly fine about it. Other than that, I will be more open with you about things, namely my personality that I tend to hide._

" _But you're so open-minded about things, especially when it comes to me. Even the way you look tonight is a testament to that. You look so amazing like I always knew you could be, dressed like this.. Though I do still adore 'our' outfit. You're opening up considerably and I swear to you now that I'm doing the same. I want nothing more than to give myself to you completely… and I will. I promise you I will. I'll love you more than you'd ever thought possible… starting tonight.."_

* * *

"I apologise," said Professor Lupin as he came in to Defence Against the Dark Arts a bit later than usual the next week, "as you know I do have terrible _symptoms_ around this certain time of the month."

"Is his werewolf problem the only thing," Hermione heard Draco hiss to Pansy some desks behind her and Fleur, "or is the crackpot PMS'ing or some rubbish we don't know about…? You see any feminine products sticking out his arse?—"

"Furthermore," Lupin continued, appearing not to have heard Draco's comment, Hermione's snort (though a sick part of her actually _wanted_ to laugh), or Pansy's snort of laughter, "I have a few things planned for today's lesson. As this _is_ a N.E.W.T. level course, I know you all understand that we will be delving into a few touchy matters. However, I urge you to take this information in today with a steady mind."

Lupin took his needed moment to retrieve his lesson plans and such while everyone else in the room readied themselves to take notes. Hermione had gotten used to Fleur's lack of care to ever take notes in class, or even pay attention for the most part – she always seemed to understand the lessons quite well whenever they reviewed it later in the day. While Hermione sat with her quill at the ready over her roll of parchment, she observed Fleur's arm that was on the desk; the woman was quite preoccupied with twirling her unneeded quill in between her lithe fingers and occasionally moving her free hand to push up her falling blouse sleeve whenever it unrolled itself from around her elbow. Meanwhile, she was staring straight ahead, over Harry and Ron's heads in front of them, and Hermione knew that Lupin could always tell that Fleur never paid attention during his lectures.

It never did bother Hermione that Fleur wasn't the most attentive student; she technically didn't even need school anymore. It was rather awkward whenever Fleur did scribble randomly on her parchment though – Fleur was left-handed, and would always sit on Hermione's right. So they would always be brushing arms or interrupting the other. Hermione did find the gestures rather endearing, though. She knew Fleur was prone to daydreaming unless the Professor did, for some outlandish reason, call on her. Hermione had grown accustomed to simply watching Fleur more often ever since they'd become closer friends. Even since their Valentine's night, Fleur had become increasingly more passionate and almost sexual, in a way, with her. The mere thought sent a warming haze throughout her while she let a small smile settle upon her face.

And she did indeed keep up with her self-satisfying habits in between note-taking, also taking note of the tiny details about Fleur – the angles of her mildly toned arm and where the muscles were most pronounced, where her skin seemed to give off the most glow, how she _breathed…_ It was almost sickening but she was ever so curious about Fleur, not at all caring about another blond behind her who was constantly giving the both of them his own attention for most of the class.

"Possession is a dangerous act, as you all very well know," said Lupin while he walked about the classroom, "and, of course, you also know that Lord Voldemort," all but Fleur, Hermione, Ron, and Harry in the class flinched at the name, "was extremely apt at controlling the mind. It is possible that he employed the use of possession to exact a similar method of the Imperius Curse. A terrible act it was, on top of it being completely undetectable.

"There is no way to fight possession as far as we know. The one doing the possessing is ultimately the one who decides when to leave the victim's body, for whatever reasons, and go about his or her business elsewhere. It is strikingly similar to a Wizard's Duel, where the true winner is the one who did the controlling through instilling fear within his or her opponent. If there is no fear, there is no battle – perhaps, quite simply, just a meeting of friendly minds or rivals. It is said that conceding most often takes place between friends. However, it almost always happens between.. _lovers."_

Fleur finally stopped her bored fidgeting when Lupin ended his pacing right by her desk, on Hermione's side. He regarded her warmly while the rest of the class also turned to look at her; the way he worded his statements and the way he was looking at Fleur seemed to be suggesting something. Fleur looked back at him with a passive expression, more concerned about him singling her out and not everyone else's eyes on her and Hermione.

Hermione herself even began to wonder what it was that he may have been suggesting; surely he heard the stories of their duel in their Second Year when Fleur had conceded to her for reasons that made very little sense to her at the time. Of course she did overhear Fleur contemplating out loud about the matter all those months ago, but the look in Lupin's eye made her ponder about something else.

"Miss Delacour, Miss Granger – would you two mind coming to the front of the class? I have a little task that may be of interest to you both."

The class was still extremely silent other than Hermione and Fleur both rising from their seats to walk to the fore of the class behind Professor Lupin. He had the class stand and step aside so that he could clear the centre a great deal to allow for plenty of room. The Gryffindors were on one far side of the room with Hermione, while Fleur strode to the opposite side, Slytherins in tow. Harry offered to hold Hermione's robes for her, and she thanked him while she took him up on his offer. Both she and Fleur were in their white Hogwarts-issued blouses, the same pair of jeans of 'their' outfit, and even the same trainers. Hermione even loosened her tie a bit to match Fleur's for effect while she stood with her wand settled at her thigh.

Hermione felt that twinge of fear settle within, the same she'd experienced so many years ago, simply because of the reminder of it all and not necessarily because she was afraid of Fleur. Fleur who, for the most part, was still looking rather passive; she had her knee bent and arms folded while she tapped her wand on her bare forearm, looking off to the side, out the windows, while her sunlit body contrasted so starkly in poise and height with the chatty Slytherins sitting a bit of distance behind her. Her powerful face was in profile, and she was still looking rather bored, but in a strikingly beautiful way that made her uncertain if she could go through with a real duel. Her Housemates behind her were talking animatedly amongst themselves while they sat, and neither House was doing any slandering of the other, to Hermione's great surprise.

Even when she finally managed to peel her gaze away from Fleur's body, she automatically looked over to Draco and Pansy sitting in the front of the row and not too far from the centre where Fleur stood. They were regarding her unreceptively; not even a tinge of a nasty look surfaced upon their faces. Hermione looked back to Fleur for a moment, then back to Draco. Back to Fleur, then Draco. Fleur, Draco, Fleur, Draco Fleur Draco Fleur Draco – it finally struck her as apparent that she felt bad about their falling out. And certainly he'd be even angrier if she somehow managed to win, even if Fleur let her, which she no doubt would…

"Now I must ask of you," Lupin said while he moved to stand right in the centre of the room, "to not go _easy_ on the other." Hermione swallowed and Lupin smiled at her. "I really am most interested in seeing a re-enactment of what occurred nearly six years ago, but with your now more polished abilities. Surely you can fill in the rest. Do either of you, or anyone else, have any questions?"

Fleur shrugged and continued to stare outside at the sky that was now beginning to develop overcast. Hermione shook her head no, wondering why Fleur was still avoiding eye contact with her. Though just as Professor Lupin was about to give them the signal to start, someone of course had to raise his hand.

"Yeah, I have a question," said Draco evenly.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin asked curtly.

"Don't they need Seconds? Just to keep things official and whatnot. Maybe even have them join in."

"Ah! I nearly forgot. Yes you're right – five points to Slytherin." Draco allowed himself a small smirk while the Slytherins except for Fleur nodded in approval. Said smirk vanished quite quickly once he noticed that Fleur was still choosing to pretend he didn't exist. "Certainly, you are allowed back-ups, partners, Seconds. Miss Granger, who would you like to choose as your partner?"

"Um…" Hermione looked over to Harry and Ron. Ron was smiling sheepishly, Harry inconspicuously glancing at their best friend with a small smile on his face. "Ron."

"Very well, Mr. Weasley, please stand about one yard to her left," said Lupin while Ron beamed at Hermione, quickly moving to follow instructions while he retrieved his wand. Hermione smiled and nodded to him once he completed his task. "And Miss Delacour, please choose a Second, if you will."

"I don't need one," Fleur said articulately while she finally at least shifted her gaze to the darkening clouds to that of Lupin's perplexed, slightly scarred face. Draco frowned sadly.

"Miss Delacour, I'm aware of your… _exceptional abilities,_ but it's only fair. Otherwise Mr. Weasley is perfectly obliged to try and duel against you simultaneously with your opponent."

"My opponent can have as many Seconds as she wishes, but I assure you I don't need one."

"Are you quite sure of that?" Lupin asked with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and even his voice. "Because that can be arranged, if you'd like."

"Go right ahead." Fleur brushed aside a fair bit of hair from her eye while Lupin smirked and nodded to her.

"Simply amazing," he mumbled to himself. "If you insist. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy – please join Miss Granger on her side of the classroom. Mr. Potter next to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy one yard to Miss Granger's right."

Harry and Draco looked extremely dishevelled upon hearing Lupin's request but stood up anyway. Harry immediately took his place next to Ron after trying to smile encouragingly at Hermione, but Draco merely walked next to Fleur and stood there, looking straight at Professor Lupin. Fleur appeared to be fighting back a strong urge to demand that he go to the other side as he was assigned.

After a terribly long and awkward silence, Draco took her lack of eye contact as his signal to walk to the other side of the classroom and do as he was told. Hermione tried to get him to look at her, but he refused to return her gaze. She went back to regarding Fleur, but tried to dismiss her uncertainty; Fleur wasn't uncertain about this on any terms, so nor should she.

"If you would like," said Professor Lupin, "you may go ahead and use your arsenal of fancy pyrotechnics if it gets the job done _._ Under absolutely _no_ circumstances may you perform Unforgivables or Dark Arts – this much is obvious and needn't even be said. Miss Granger, you are allowed to add or replace your Seconds at any time and up to any number should you feel the need as Miss Delacour has so kindly given you permission to do so. You may begin at any time, and don't worry yourselves about _time,_ as this is the last class of the day. Do take care."

Lupin walked off to the side with his hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back, nodding to the five of them to begin once he was a safe distance away. The rest of the class watched on with bated anticipation, so enraptured by the matchup that they couldn't even bring themselves to speculate amongst themselves that they still thought Fleur would win. There seemed to be overcast in the classroom, almost, from the darkening clouds becoming so prominent outside.

Hermione watched as Fleur finally, finally shifted her line of sight to her own, and she felt an entirely unnatural chill seep throughout; Fleur's eyes were cold and uncaring while she bored her darkening azures into Hermione's eyes. Hermione could almost see the very fear painted upon Harry and Ron's faces while the three of them wondered and wondered what to do. Draco was growing impatient and spoke up on the matter.

"It's just like last time," he mumbled, only audible to Hermione, Harry and Ron.

"How do you mean?" Hermione asked with the same volume, feeling a burning sensation within that Fleur could still easily read her lips.

"She won't make the first move. Fleur never does.. we used to—Anyway. The point is she's going to be perfectly fine just standing there until we all pass out from exhaustion or forfeit. Chances are she won't concede because Lupin said to not go easy. We need to do something."

"Well if you're so smart, why don't you tell us?" Ron asked calmly. "Fleur's a damn genius with this stuff, unlike us."

"She's left-handed," Draco said simply.

"So?"

" _So,"_ Draco continued, "that _means_ her reaction time on her direct right ought to be lower."

" _Ought_ to be?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I don't see you coming up with any million Galleon ideas, _Potter,"_ Draco hissed. Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I propose we just surround her without even lifting our wands. She'd let us."

"Okay, and then what?"

"Hug her?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, Granger can hug her then we can all have a kip here in the classroom 'till class lets out," Draco droned. "Love conquers all, even Fleur, blah blah blah. No. What I'm saying is that as amazing Fleur is, she doesn't have eyes in the back of her head. Someone from behind her gives her a nice Stun, she's rendered useless, and Bob's your uncle!"

"I dunno, Malfoy," said Harry. Hermione was too busy trying to keep the same intensity in her eyes that Fleur was giving her to contribute to the brilliant brainstorming session. "Why don't we just wing it? She won't hurt Hermione and we can get replaced temporarily if need be."

"Sounds like a plan," Ron said. Draco shrugged and nodded.

"All right, Potter. But if this ends up taking the rest of term it's _your_ fault—"

Draco was Silenced. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were as well – Fleur really _did_ make the first move.. Hermione had been watching her, but she couldn't even lift her wand before Fleur managed to do so and flicked it four times on her side of the room. Apparently, she'd grown bored of their senseless strategising and decided to remedy this. The rest of the class guffawed at Draco and Ron's panicked expressions; even Lupin allowed himself a small chuckle at their antics. Harry merely turned to regard Fleur fearfully while Hermione could only continue boring her eyes into Fleur's.

Fleur took a step forward and Ron and Draco immediately took five steps back. She reversed her spells on the boys, but not on Hermione. Hermione tried to appear nonplussed about this, but she knew Fleur was either toying with her or giving her an extra challenge. It appeared to be the latter; Fleur stood in profile and pointed her wand directly at Hermione. Hermione honed in on the rosewood for a moment, losing focus on Fleur before glancing back up at her, feeling a strange feeling of elation from the rush of adrenaline she felt from letting her eyes retain their focus on Fleur's, slightly hidden behind shimmering blonde. It was the adrenaline, _and_ how strongly she felt for her that made her aware of only her heartbeats and Fleur existed at that very moment.

" _Rictusemp—"_

Ron's feeble attempt at a Tickling Charm was remedied by Fleur swiftly flicking her wrist while she kept her arm in place to Silence him once more. What's more was that she did not remove her eyes from Hermione's while she did so. Hermione merely continued to stand there, unable to do anything without her voice, but she seemed hyperaware of everything else now that she chose to direct her attentions elsewhere. The sound of Draco's shoes scuffing the hardwood floor while he walked back to her side seemed to be more apparent than normal, but nothing more so than the oddly close-up sound of Fleur's breathing, the rise and fall of her hair against the fabric of her shirt; even her _blinking_ seemed audible.

Hermione knew that she trusted Fleur immensely, even if at the moment Fleur was choosing to dangle her partners in the air by their ankles and Silence them all. The class couldn't even find it in them to laugh; their gaze was wholly intense and extremely _passionate._ Her own thoughts became clearer to her, and she no longer felt as if her lack of a voice at the moment was an issue; if anything, it was helping her to learn Fleur's secret. It was because Fleur loved her so that she trusted her to figure out her lessons and to not be frightened of her in any way anymore. Though Hermione felt her heart ache somewhat when she realised that they'd only said _I love you_ to each other while they were still only friends. Certainly they've said it in many other ways… While Fleur was much more articulate with her words than Hermione, that was never an issue. Now was an opportunity for Hermione to show her in one way she knew how, doing something that she technically _did_ excel in – turning theory around and putting it to her practical advantage.

It was time to do just that…

Hermione finally mustered the courage to also stand in profile while she pointed her wand directly at Fleur. Fleur finally cracked a small smile that only she seemed to have been able to see. The rest of the class seemed to fade into unimportance, into nothingness – all Hermione knew was the striking detail at which she could sense Fleur's every tiny move at that point in time. Their eyes never left each other, not even to blink. Their heartbeats did all of the blinking for them, most especially when they finally did choose to begin –

Simultaneously, it was, that Hermione and Fleur both flicked their wrists in an upward motion to send a jet of their own creation at the other, both fully having been expecting an immediate reaction. Hermione was rewarded with a smirk as soon as her fire actually clashed and struggled with Fleur's ice; they both moved to clutch their wand with both hands and lowered the tips of their wands towards the other, and bent their knees to fight the powerful force their elements were pushing back on them, making their hair and shirts fly about behind them. They both only continued to increase their respective elements in magnitude, both keeping their ground relatively well, neither daring to break eye contact or the growing affection in their still powerful gazes while their struggling slowly but surely melting into a large cataract of water between them.

Synchronised they were, even still – they both kept their smirks about them and yanked their wands with one hand high above their heads in a power-struggle to lasso the water betwixt them into their control and out from the other. Collective gasps were barely heard over the loud current of gushing water when Hermione managed to steal the incredible body of water, managing to whip the entire thing into a massive whirlpool, but realised too late from the broader smirk upon Fleur's face that this was a mistake – she _completely_ forgot that the boys were still in the air behind her, meaning…

Fleur let out a warm laugh while she continued boring her eyes into Hermione who was determined to not dissipate her Leviathan behind her. Hermione was surprised that Fleur immediately Summoned the three boys from the water and had them skid over to Lupin's side to dry off. The three of them scrambled to get as far away from the battle as possible while even the rest of the class scampered over behind Lupin to get a better look at things.

Hermione was wondering in vain what in the world to do with her weapon still raging behind her, but Fleur arched her front foot and did a nice one eighty, slamming her foot to the fore, just enough to make a loud stomping sound and more than enough for Fleur to manipulate the sound waves into much, much larger waves that were indeed still made of sound that no one was able to see. Hermione winced; she knew she was losing hold on her weapon and the _sound_ that Fleur was building was entirely too unreal. It kept building and building and building in volume, Fleur seemingly Transfiguring the waves into…something… Something that was making Fleur scowl, and scowl very deeply at that – it was the sound of collective laughter. Hermione tried to ignore any innuendos Fleur was trying to make and instead lassoed her whirlpool from behind her to at least try to clash the sound and possibly _drown_ it out, literally.

But while the two entities neared each other, the harder and harder Hermione and Fleur both had to hold their ground and will themselves to not break eye contact with the other while the tremendous force continued to push back on them. Hermione truly felt invigorated from Fleur being such a formidable opponent, though she did have the smallest ounce that Fleur was going easy on her. They kept on with their smouldering staring match, still fighting more and more to keep themselves steady while the laughter did indeed begin to drown but the Leviathan that Hermione was controlling was steadily collapsing in on itself. She didn't know what was causing this, but Fleur certainly seemed to know –

Hermione made the fatal mistake of blinking; her eyes were nearly screaming from lack of moisture on top of the massive amounts of energy being blown at her. The force stopped for possibly a nanosecond, less than it took for her to blink, but she did see what Fleur had done – a strange, black and platinum miasma was building in her wand while it absorbed the two forces, making some strange vortex-like sound and even sucking in the rest of the sound of the room while Fleur watched Hermione's stubborn surprise with a malicious sneer. The energy continued to build and build in between her wand in both of her hands, the sounds in the room still continuing to leave, but once they all joined her wand, it took but another nanosecond and Fleur successfully showed Hermione that she still had much to learn.

Everything that was once inside her wand from the recent absorption, shot out from her hands and wand the second she extended her arms out at either side of her and let out a merry laugh from the force making everyone topple over on their backs – Fleur released all of the energy and promptly filled the classroom with too much sound and droplets of water that every single window shattered to infinite shards of glass, desks collapsed in on themselves, people screamed, the very walls all seemed to melt; every particle in the room began to fall excellently to the broken floor.

Hermione quickly forced herself to at least sit up when Fleur channelled every single shard of glass in the room in her direction; Hermione ignored her racing heart and sheer disbelief that Fleur was actually considering hurting her intentionally. She immediately took advantage of the water still being free from her control and Transfigured them all into a makeshift Shield Charm that was to immediately change the glass to water but Fleur fixed that; she caused it all to disappear with a mere flick and swish of her wand and she used the gesture to guide her back to her usual poised stance. An extremely charming smile was upon her face while Hermione scrambled to her feet, out of breath, and it was a natural reaction for them to immediately be at it again.

The classroom did indeed decay and melt into the outside world, to nature, to the Hogwarts grounds – Fleur and Hermione kept on with their duel, seemingly never-ending, both of them ever growing and never slowing with their learning from _each other._ Fleur wasn't the only one teaching and Hermione wasn't the only one learning. They continued on and on, the white expanse that was the outside world soon turning to a new expanse of green and blossoming plants, blossoming talents, ripening skills. They both continued to amaze each other, even drawing crowds quite often as they continued through the passing season, always and forever giving their all and never _going easy_ on the other. They learned to never blink, Hermione especially having learnt her lesson from that first afternoon when they discovered this very practical passion they held for one another.

It was vitalizing to push each other harder and make each other stronger. Soon the entire school had their absolute validation that the two greatest minds of their age were _together_ and only becoming greater and greater forces to be reckoned with. Some called it a dance, others a ritual, most a bold declaration in the form of fancy pyrotechnics that they loved gazing intensely at the other and letting their passions for the other fuel their drives to improve, and even for each other. Professors McGonagall and Snape in particular, by rumour, had a bet going that their student would eventually win.

* * *

More training had passed, and the sunny days had begun to slip into rainy ones, and nights with thunderstorms in the fourth month of the year. April showers did indeed take over that night near the end of the month in particular that they were once again outside. Hermione tried to avoid at all costs being outside with Fleur were they not duelling – she still had frustrating recollections of how strange Fleur had behaved for those two weeks in January.

The two of them were standing a distance away from each other, near the lake, panting and heaving louder than the pouring rain and cracks of lightning and booms of thunder. _Their_ outfit, their dedication, their growing love – they both shared these quite easily, but Hermione knew that Fleur was losing it. Not her talent; of course not. But those same odd behaviours had begun to come up once again; Fleur was being strangely lusty and mysterious. And no matter how much Hermione _knew_ she secretly revelled in how sexual Fleur was being, it was the uncanny circumstances under which made her so… _different._

The nearly black rainclouds surrounding them paled in comparison to Fleur and Hermione; they'd both improved immensely over time and even joked about lassoing some lightning down with which to playfully threaten the other. However playful the sneer was upon Fleur's face, Hermione disliked it and disliked not knowing how or why her seemingly sporadic behaviour overtook her. She _still_ never remembered anything when asked, and yet Hermione knew her frustration was easily something she could transform into arousal at any time she desired; Fleur was clearly desirable, _different_ or not, and she was greedily becoming curious with the Fleur that even desired _her_ so. She even still seemed to desire her darker hair colour, and that new change for Hermione seemed to symbolise a little more than her simple want for a change of appearance.

Fleur finally swaggered forward to close the distance between them, the grass at their feet, and the bone-chilling rain. Hermione kept her stubbornness in her eyes though she knew Fleur was going to do something and yet she would pretend to hate it. A part of her may have even been drugged and conditioned into playing hard to get, only to fuel Fleur's drive even more. When Fleur finally did reach her, she kept her playful sneer while she looked down at her, letting her eyes drink the molten lava that was the intensity Hermione knew she thrived off of so much and so readily. Fleur placed a hand on Hermione's illusorily warm cheek; Hermione immediately felt a painfully arousing shock within from Fleur's touch and proximity alone, and she knew she had grown to love it, to thrive on it – it was inevitable.

Their passions for each other had spun and grown and woven into something so much more magnanimous that she was certain neither of them could grasp what it was anymore and fit it into the smalls of their backs whenever they held each other. Nor could they fit it in the absence of abandon in their kisses, their explorations – these that they'd begun to do without even needing to prompt the other in any way. Hermione knew that she'd one day soon drown in the ocean and whirlpool of the arousal and captivation that was Fleur and Fleur alone. She'd selfishly grown hungry of the blockade to breathe and to instead drink the life that was Fleur's full, soft, insatiable lips that were as such for _her._ The reminder of that every single time Fleur wrapped her arms about her form, drenched or exhausted or otherwise, she could only lose herself more and more and more until she and Fleur fell right into each other.

And fall they did, quite gracefully at that, but right into the lake this time, both of them even laughing loudly to the rain and lightning and skies just before they crashed the surface together. The challenge to not suck in any of the lake water provoked Hermione further to keep their lips plastered together while they daringly explored the vacuum that was their mouths; their tongues were still free to roam, to goad the other, to press pulses of pleasure but still pain that they could not breathe. They forgot that they were sinking but automatically began to move their legs in sync to propel themselves back up; they kept challenging each other more and more to let their hearts pump as much life into them as possible, pour it into each other, and build their stamina even more for their next daring adventure, wherever that may be.

Varied sea life even seemed to regard them with extreme curiosity while they continued to push each other harder the more they pressed themselves into each other for any drop of survival, knowing full well that it could be found in the one in their arms. Hermione was nearly stinging on the inside because she knew she needed to keep holding her breath and still keep up with Fleur's kisses. It nearly took ages, but their heads soon cracked the surface again, but Fleur still refused to let her lips be pried from Hermione's. She led them back to the grass with ease, still devouring every bit of Hermione's mouth that she could and nearly suffocating Hermione, _and_ most likely herself in the process. It got to the point where Hermione's chest nearly made a loud cracking sound along with her head from the lack of oxygen and she had to push Fleur off of her to roll over from underneath her.

Before she could take the much needed opportunity to swallow the gallons of air she needed and cough the bit of water from her throat, she felt ten long nails and ten hard fingertips and fingers and two palms slowly grab her shoulders while the owner of the loitering suspects straddled her waist and tried to make everything happen again. Hermione was nearly in tears from her extreme need for air and she tried to push Fleur off of her, but Fleur wouldn't have that – she kept trying to reach for her mouth anyway. The frustration began to take over yet again and Hermione nearly did cry while she struggled and struggled to make Fleur release her, but Fleur's hold on her only became more and more voracious the more she struggled.

" _FLEUR!_ GET OFF! I _need_ to _BREATHE,_ unlike you for some reason!—"

"I am your source of breathing, Hermione… now kiss me… just _kiss_ me—"

"Air! I need _air! Not_ your lips at the moment! What is WRONG with you!"

Fleur removed her face from the vicinity of Hermione's, but Hermione didn't have enough time to try and breathe before the, _deranged_ , Frenchwoman moved her hands down to the zipper of her jeans. Hermione jumped from her hips upward when she quickly registered that Fleur was fumbling with the button and zipper in between her monstrosities for nails and immediately bounded away from her. She knew she felt a distinct warmth seep in between her, and she knew she _wanted_ it, but Fleur was being so…so odd!

Hermione scrambled to her feet when Fleur tried to crawl back over to her; she was now _desperate_ to put as much space between them as possible for the first time ever. Fleur merely continued to stay upon the ground, on all fours while she let the pouring rain beat at her back, while she looked up at Hermione who had hot, stinging tears welling up in her eyes. The irritation and confusion was getting to her, no matter how much she simply wanted to lose herself and be as zealous as Fleur was about things…but not _this_ zealous.

She broke her promise..

"Fleur.. you… you said you'd… _never…_ force yourself on me! You promised! Regardless if I even _d-do_ want it right now or not… you're acting _entirely_ t-too strange!"

"Hermione, please—"

"NO! Y-you're scaring me right n-now! And whenever I ask you wh-what the problem is _later,_ you never r-remember!"

"Remember what..?"

"See! There! AGAIN!"

"Hermione…"

"N-no! No, Fleur! J-just… just stop! You're confusing me and.. I'm confusing m-my _self,_ knowing that I want you when you're like this b-but y-you still turn into some m-monster!"

Fleur looked up at her with an extreme degree of apology in her eyes, but Hermione shook her head fiercely when she tried to crawl to her feet. Hermione took several steps back when Fleur swiftly stood and tried to walk towards her, though she _knew_ she could tell that the sincerity in her eyes was real. It was all a horrible combination of being disgusted with herself for enjoying Fleur so much when she _changed,_ and confusion that Fleur even went such strange transformations to begin with. She tried to blink away her tears and let Fleur come to her, but the horrible flashbacks of her possibly near death experience just now was _suffocating._

But it wasn't suffocating to let Fleur breach the distance between them and hold her close. Fleur was much gentler this time. She was _herself –_ why there were even two Fleurs to begin with was increasingly mystifying for Hermione. What should have convinced her that this Fleur was just fine was the kiss she received over both of her eyes, but she still felt the white hot trails of frustration leak from her indecisive self. So many things were spinning out of her control, and Hermione didn't know why she thought them to be as such if she had no control over Fleur in the first place. But didn't Fleur love her so? Yes but when was the last time she _told_ her this…?

Hermione found herself aching for Fleur to tell her. Did she not trust her? Did she trust Fleur? Just moments ago, she trusted her hands. She trusted her mouth, her tongue, her passion her lust her soul.. A distinct feeling of her heart dropping to the pit of her chest plagued her, even while Fleur's arms were around her, trying to keep it high. No one else could notice the difference – the endless mass of black robes and smiling faces. They loved to see them together; so close, so beautiful, so bold and fearless.

What if it was all a game? A joke? A lie? A scheme! Surely it was! But why would Fleur play such a horrible trick on her? Hermione no longer seemed to know exactly what was right about the situation, what was left – but she did know that what was left from this situation was always a bout of insecurities. Hermione had grown to hate that Fleur was able to make her so helpless sometimes that she didn't even know where she was. Who she was. _What_ she was…

An overwhelming bout of confusion and aggravation with Fleur, with herself – it overtook her while she shoved Fleur off of her and yelled some incoherent mess that was enough to make Fleur flinch. More and more she tried to vent, but Fleur just ended up blinking her eyes rapidly and shaking her head before running away. Hermione followed right after her, silent now, but she didn't know why they were doing this. Fleur wasn't even running in the direction of the castle, the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's; it was unknown. All so unknown. Unknown as it was that things with Fleur would be uncertain and hazy and nonsensical more than half the time. Another half of her time was spent missing Fleur merely because they weren't in the same classroom together, but yet another half was spent being entirely too happy with her.

But she hated the Fleur that seemed to want her body more than _her,_ even though she _knew_ that she took absolute pride and pleasure in the way that side of Fleur went about things. Hermione herself knew that she'd been growing a burning want and need for Fleur's body. Fleur's body that, even now, she knew she wanted and Fleur's body that she shouldn't have been literally chasing at the moment. But the want for Fleur, however captivating and desirous the woman was, shouldn't have been so powerful or atrocious or blinding, most especially when the source of the craving was inhuman and not at all who Fleur should have been. The fear put power behind her legs and made her run faster, even though she shouldn't have been _chasing_ her…

Hermione didn't know the why behind anything anymore. The needy and same time uninhibited side of herself melded into a made-up anger and hatred of a woman that Fleur probably had no control over, _why_ it could even take over not making any sense at all. Maybe it was that time of the month and her own emotions were running out of control like she herself was. Maybe she needed help. Maybe she'd just been too secluded for too long, and having even but one taste of possible release was too much for her.

Or maybe she just needed some kind of…assuaging.

Hermione kept following Fleur, though she was still very much out of breath and not in the mood for running, but she needed something. She kept following her even though she was telling herself that she hated half of Fleur but still loved the other half and was completely lost as to why the other half even existed at the times that it did.

She followed Fleur because she wanted something from her. And not sex.

Hermione continued to chase Fleur down the drenched fields of grass, through the air that still flashed of lightning and boomed of thunder on occasion but still never beating the sounds of their running and panting. The smell of water in the air and an overwhelming, lingering _love_ for at least _some_ façade of Fleur kept her going full-speed after her. She didn't know why Fleur was even still running. She herself didn't know why she was still chasing after her. Hermione had no idea why they were running in the first place…

She didn't know anything anymore. Fleur always reduced her to some heap of idiot, when any other time they'd be perfectly, _perfectly_ happy and she was always the sweetest, _perfect_ gentleman. But then let her click outside and she's the hungry Veela with no regard for her girlfriend's wants. Fleur was the _only_ one who made her confused when at any other time, she'd have her answers in less than a second or a flip of a page in a book away.

Fleur turned around right when Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She saw the tears still cutting down Hermione's face; Fleur knew it wasn't the rain. Fleur had stopped and turned to face her, but Hermione kept running at her. Hermione nearly ran her over with everything she had. And even though Fleur didn't do anything except hold Hermione in her arms, Hermione somehow felt the release. Not complete release, because she was still crying.. But it was release nonetheless. Hermione didn't know if Fleur would snap again and change back, and that horrifying prospect made her shove Fleur off of her and start running herself in no direction in particular.

Of course Fleur was right on her heel, but Hermione wished her heart and mind would make themselves up; _she_ was tired of doing the work. She continued to cry, wondering how Fleur could do this to her. _Why_ she was doing it to her…

"Hermione, stop!"

Hermione only ran faster while she shut her eyes. The tears were stinging, just like Fleur's obvious concern and the assurance that she hadn't switched. The obvious solution was to just go back inside, but that was too much of a temporary solution to a completely ambiguous and nonsensical problem! Hermione didn't care that she was being the same, running blindly about the grounds. She should have slipped and fell on the grass ages ago, or ran into a tree, a building, something…

But she could not deny that Fleur was guiding her. Fleur had so much control over her, even when she couldn't notice. Hermione was needy and scared and insecure. She was bossy and stubborn and full of bravado. But only when she remembered to be as such. And when she forgot…Fleur was there to fill the void, even though all of this was doubting Hermione's trust in Fleur to see who she really was anymore. The real Hermione had begun to hide behind Fleur and isolate herself from her friends. The real Hermione used to hide behind dusty old textbooks and grades, but thence came along Fleur who could do anything without even lifting a finger.

And yet that same Fleur was still chasing her. She was still guiding her, even still with her eyes shut against the blades of the rain and tears against her eyes. Hermione slowed down and stopped. She shouldn't have been running. She should have been panting and coughing like Fleur was behind her, but she strangely couldn't.

"Why did you follow me?"

"…I'm already afraid of myself.. And now you are, too.. I hate myself, Hermione. But I know…that you don't hate me… no.. you're just.. _confused…_ I don't.. understand…what's _wrong_ with me… But Hermione _you_ are _right_ with me.. you are… You are.. What am I doing to you..?"

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and took in the vision of Fleur's field of flowers just one step away from her. She would have ran straight into the batch of normal flowers if she hadn't stopped. But her body didn't stop shuddering from the cold of the rain. Fleur was just as confused as she was…this _wasn't_ a game. How could she even think so horribly of her? Hermione was always so quick to judge, and she made that mistake seven years ago with Fleur already. Here she was, doing it yet again…

And yet Fleur still saw so much more…and she was still trying hard to catch her breath behind her.

But could Fleur see that much deeper inside of her right then? Could she see that Hermione was shivering for her touch, but still screaming for her to stay away? Hermione had no confirmation about anything. So what if _part_ of Fleur could kiss her as if she were the only one who'd fed her in years? And if not that, then the only one who knew _how_ to feed her passions; gentle, ardent, wild – they could be any combination of the three, together. And yet what was the solution to this problem? Staying indoors their whole lives wouldn't solve anything.

"Please Hermione, don't run away from me again…you're scaring me. I'm scaring m-myself. I've d-done something to you, just like you said… but I don't know if I really did.. I don't remember… Have I..?"

"You have. You've done everything imaginable to me by just _looking_ at me. You wrack my brain and wrench my heart in ways that make me feel hurt and loved at the same time. Whichever _you_ it is that I'm talking about, of course. Maybe it's the vertigo, again. I don't know. But I'm doubting who you are and I don't know how to fix this. _This_ being..."

Fleur said nothing. Hermione made to take a step forward to simply get away from her, no matter how badly she knew she wanted to just run back into her arms that very second. And yet she stopped the second she even thought to do it. But it wasn't Hermione herself that made her legs stop; it was _her._ Her words that shocked her and sent her higher and rang louder within than any bold of lightning ever could. Her words..

Her tender words…

"I love you, Hermione… _truly._ From what you just said, you p-probably don't believe me. You probably think I'm lying b-because of this disease, this _thing_ I can't control, this _whatever_ i-it is.. But y-you helped me become aware of it now.. I'll fix myself, I swear I will.. or maybe it just…has to do with you. Maybe it's your fault.. have you ever thought of that..?

"M-maybe my love for you is like a fever.. now it most especially is, out in the open where Enchantments can't compress my desire. And it's longing still for that which fuels this disease even more. It's _not_ the _vertigo,_ Hermione! I love you and _whatever's_ wrong with me is feeding off of that! I don't know for certain but I feel it! And I always have this craving for you, for it, to make it all stop but it just ends up getting worse and worse however sporadic these shifts are.

"Trust me, Hermione.. I can feel what the problem is but I don't know how to control it… I'm beyond the point of being cured.. trying to find one may end up killing me because I just _can't_ live or give if living is without you. My thoughts are crazy and _none_ of this will _ever_ make any concrete sense to you.. Because _everything_ you know must be concrete for you to analyse and dissect..

"And yet… you know something..? I told you that there's a voice inside of me, telling me to give, give, _give_ to you… I _told_ you I was getting to the point of insanity from _needing_ your touch.. but it's when you push me away like you had to do just now that makes me get worse.. and you're afraid of that. So all of this really is a disease..

"But if it's a disease to be in love with you, then so be it. If it's a disease to cry every time you run from me when all I want to do is hold you in m-my arms, then fine.

"And if it's a disease to die if you can love me back, then I'll take it.. I'll deal with it. If you're scared, then why can't you tell me that? What happened to us? Why can't you trust me?"

Hermione felt like a phantom while she barely registered her body turning slowly around to face the one who had just said all that she never thought possible for anyone to say to her. Her heart was stinging and still somehow so warm, easily shielding her from the cold despite her numb body. What stung her the most was what she was bearing witness to; something she knew no one had ever seen in years –

Fleur really was crying… _sobbing,_ even. Silently. But she still was. _Fleur._ _ **Crying.**_ _She_ made her cry. Hermione thought that such a thing was impossible. But she had powers over Fleur that neither of them knew not. Fleur had the same effect on her. And her words… God they all made sense. She had drank every single one of them as they floated to her, and she was still repeating them over and over in her head as her own voice that she needed to _give._ They'd both become nearly power hungry for the past four months that she felt so strange.

But even still… Fleur _really_ meant everything that she said. No, it wasn't concrete as to what was afflicting her, but it was all they had. And if it _was_ true…

"Fleur.. God I love you… I love you, I love you, _I love you.._ But I had no idea.. I didn't even consider the possibility of… I didn't consider anything.. I'm so, _so_ sorry…"

And Hermione was ever so thankful that Fleur allowed her to walk the short distance between them and hold her for a long while out there that night. She wished she could take back her yelling and screaming from earlier, but maybe she wouldn't have prompted Fleur to take that final step with _her_ words. Fleur didn't shift at all during the entire time that they stayed there. It finally was this moment that Hermione learned what it truly felt for Fleur to hold her with her approval. They weren't even crying; they just wanted to keep holding onto the other for answers; for the kindling of tender feelings that no one could ever know but they themselves.

But whether Fleur's problem was vertigo, another disease, a coincidence – it was unknown. Something Hermione knew she needed to get used to faster than she'd have liked, but vowed to do so anyway.


	15. seizure of power

_she doesn't look, she doesn't see.._

_opens up for nobody…_

_figures out, she figures out…_

_narrow line, she can't decide.._

_everything short of suicide…_

_never hurts, nearly works.._

_somethin' is scratchin' its way out.._

_somethin' you want to forget about…_

_~Little House by The Fray_

_**xv.** _ _seizure of power_

_Pounding, slamming, thumping, beating, thrashing against the black tiled floor – Fleur was a transparent chameleon while she followed after the group, right on Hermione's heel while they ran through the Department of Mysteries, away from the endless drops and falls and near topaz thunderstorm of crystal orbs against a sea of powdery black and blue. A wand of rosewood flicked behind her rushing body, keeping the storm far from Hermione's way, more so than anyone else. An unfamiliar stab of fear ripped throughout whenever the girl would whip around with such an expression of horror upon her face while she and her friends continued to run and run and run, Harry at the fore with the prophecy in his large hand._

_No one seemed to notice the sound of a ravaging sound of out of place heels upon the tiles while they ran; no one had noticed any bit of rosewood flicking about at Death Eaters in their direction, keeping them away. Hermione in particular was held with the most regard in terms of her safety by Fleur, despite Fleur having been ordered by Snape and McGonagall to keep them all safe in compliance with her duties with the Order that was soon on their way._

_Fleur made sure to follow orders exactly, most especially in the same moment that they all passed through the door seemingly leading them to safety, only to have them all fall down a near endless valley of black. Rosewood flicked itself again, even with the owner experiencing a near seizure from the sudden plunge on top of the collective wails of surprise from her younger schoolmates. Just as soon as they all hit rock bottom, Fleur made it so that they all stopped just inches from the ground to avoid terrible injury or, worse, death. Hermione in particular fell to the ground softly while everyone else landed with a non-injuring thud, Fleur herself landing gracefully on her two heeled feet. Harry led them all further up the rocky hill, towards a large, smoky-coloured veil, claiming to hear voices. Luna, as well as Fleur, could hear them too – to Fleur they sounded much like her family. She quickly shook the notion from her head the second she heard a pair of footsteps and an annoying cane clank atop the ground._

_While her classmates whipped around to face Lucius Malfoy, they were also surrounded by a bout of jetting darkness, propelling them to the ground and whipping their hair and clothes about while they fell powerlessly to the stony ground. Fleur immediately flourished her wand in Hermione's direction, Summoning her forth, eliciting a look of great confusion upon her face while the jets of darkness continued to flutter ceaselessly throughout the chamber. Fleur had forgotten that she was Disillusioned, and didn't even think before she wrapped her arms about Hermione as a safe haven while the black automatically dissolved in four directions – Harry was left alone while his friends were each being held hostage by Death Eaters about the room. He first looked at Hermione incredulously who was clearly being held by a pair of invisible arms, but his direction automatically turned to Lucius Malfoy approaching him and making sly small talk before demanding the orb in his hand._

_Hermione was thankfully not struggling in Fleur's arms, instead enraptured by the sight before her of Harry clearly being convinced that it was in his best interest to hand Lucius the prophecy. Fleur looked about the room, knowing Hermione could hear her shallow breaths echoing in her throat and chest, but now was not the time to fear this fact; her safety was important to Fleur. Any second now, Fleur thought to herself… Any second, they ought to be arrive…_

_And it seemed as if the second Harry handed the orb to Lucius did white hot flashes of shadows appear throughout the room, echoing nicely in Fleur's ears while she gently pulled Hermione back behind a sharp boulder – the Order had arrived. Hermione's friends were soon disentangled from their respective Death Eaters, the Death Eaters themselves soon engaged in duels with the Order. Fleur let Hermione free when McNair in particular noticed something odd about how Hermione was standing, suspecting a Disillusioned helper. Fleur but flicked and swished her wand in his direction and he was sent flying, gone among the sea of jetting black and white crashing so starkly against each other while they duelled. Fleur herself morphed into the white of her comrades, keeping Hermione from further danger when but more Death Eaters came to find the source of alarm._

_They were soon taken care of, and Fleur checked by the veil to make sure that Harry and Sirius were doing all right before helping Hermione to the safety of the Atrium. However, she stopped in her tracks, seeing Bellatrix Lestrange in their way. Hermione and Fleur both froze, but Bellatrix did not notice them – she had her wide, blood-shot eyes under a hazardous black sea of ivy for hair right upon Sirius Black. Not even seconds after Sirius had successfully fed off Lucius did Bellatrix send a flash of green light in his direction, freezing his body and sending him floating into the veil, never to return. Hermione tried to struggle against the invisible arms wrapped about her, but Fleur held her tighter, shutting her eyes and shaking her head at the sound of Harry's cries of anguish while the battles continued still._

_Bellatrix gave a false look of coyness to Harry when the boy made eye contact with her, but she quickly grinned and slipped off in the direction of the Atrium. Hermione was now to the point of yelling at the invisible person to let her go just as Harry passed them, running after Bellatrix, but Fleur kept still and did not let her go. Fleur shut her eyes against the back of Hermione's head, struggling to hold on to her while Hermione continued to writhe and squirm still, demanding answers of her identity and why they were holding her back when Sirius had been killed just now. Fleur could tell that Hermione had stopped at intervals to move her hands as much as possible to get a feel for her, and she did this much when Fleur had to lunge down to duck for cover against a spell sent their way. Hermione managed to grab a handful of robes and rubbed them between her tainted hands; surely they_ felt _expensive. Fleur nearly jumped when Hermione braved a hand down her thigh; Fleur was wearing a skirt and soon Hermione was touching bare skin._

_Hermione stopped searching for answers and struggling at this juncture. More time had passed with them simply lying on the stone floor, Fleur holding Hermione in her arms to keep her out of harm's way while the battles raged on. Fleur automatically had an inkling from the start to keep Hermione sheltered more so than the others, to keep her the safest, protect her with more care – but why? Fleur chose not to ponder why while she kept holding Hermione with all of her willpower, and then some, trying to keep her from the spells sent just over their heads and the rubble flying about from curses hitting the rocks nearby. Fleur looked at Hermione's nearly frazzled head of hair questioningly when the girl began to tremble, and it took a moment for her to realise that Hermione was crying – crying over the loss of Sirius, over Harry's sorrow, over the situation, her frustration with her protection and or captivation. Fleur swallowed and placed her lips upon Hermione's in a soothing manner while she tightened her hold so that it was a bit more subdued and tender._

_To Fleur's great surprise, Hermione actually wrapped her arms about Fleur's in a thankful gesture and continued to sob quietly while the sounds of battle continued to echo horribly around them. Fleur, though she was providing great protection to Hermione, felt rather powerless. She thought back to Sirius, the last moment – a horrible reflection passed upon her and she held Hermione tighter still. Fleur knew she had no time to grieve, and was instead supposed to be helping her schoolmates as instructed. The duelling around them slowly came to a stop, and Fleur helped both Hermione and herself up while she did a general survey of the room – Neville, Ron, Ginny and Luna were unscathed save for passing cuts and bruises. Hermione still continued to hold onto the arms wrapped about her waist, and Fleur wondered whether to let her go or not. She tried to do so, but Hermione was determined to hold on to her. Fleur sighed inwardly and led her backwards out to the Atrium, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville in tow._

_Soon afterwards, the six fifth years were all in the large, destroyed Atrium. Harry was upon the ground, surrounded by a field of what appeared to be a whirlpool dust, Dumbledore kneeled sadly at his side – the boy appeared to have been experiencing a seizure not too long before. Fleur could almost feel the sorrowful expression that was on Hermione's face in her body – the girl felt hollow all of a sudden, much colder. The body of Lord Voldemort appeared right behind Dumbledore, and a flood of fear surfaced throughout Fleur's body while she watched with a horrendous amount of hatred as the man's body slowly became more and more full and concrete. Before his body finally did materialise, however, Harry and Dumbledore both shot Killing Curses at it._

_The consequence of doing this was dire, though no one could notice but one person._

_Harry was being possessed by Voldemort during his seizure; Voldemort's soul had left his body in order to do the victimising. By killing his body, this left Voldemort no place to return to except for another. Another whom he'd sensed immediately by the mild flutters of her thrall that were immune to her schoolmates due to heightened fears and arousal leaving no room for Fleur's to soothe them. Voldemort's soul rejoiced merrily, though still damning his Death Eaters for not following orders – they did not kill_ this _one. This one whose thrall his soul could live off of for plenty of time to come. Voldemort quickly shot through Fleur's body with an invisible cackle while the rest were busy taking in the slow relief that Voldemort's body had fallen. His soul had not, however. It most certainly did not…_

_Lord Voldemort had possessed Fleur, who had a vast degree of control over herself that she did not notice a thing at all. Fleur who was holding Hermione, Hermione who was giving her warmth and letting the woman's barriers down just enough to allow for Voldemort's entry. Fleur did not notice a thing, and continued to hold Hermione while she too felt oceans of relief overtake her from the knowledge that Voldemort was dead. Dead…if only for the time being._

_Dead now, only to reawaken within her, inside of_ her, _once the time was right…_

* * *

It was late May that Hermione was sitting in the Hospital Wing that night, holding onto an icy cold hand between her near dead palms. The two were alone in the Wing, Madam Pomfrey having a heated discussion with Professors Dumbledore and Snape in her office about matters Hermione knew not. No tears could come anymore, but a dull, resonating ache was pounding within, making her realise that she had never in her life felt so helpless and confused. A horrible pool of sorrow drenched her insides, soaking and filling her mind to the brim, making her brain and even her heart absorb the morbid truths of possibilities that she did not want to even consider at the moment.

Fleur had passed out cold just hours ago from merely _looking_ at Hermione. Hermione who had been, once again, furious at her odd behaviour. They were in the Great Hall when it happened, not outside – _inside._ Hermione was being subjected to a Fleur who had suddenly grown a thirst and hunger akin to a rapist for all to see. Ron and Harry managed to keep Fleur away, and Hermione had backed off, pausing only to look Fleur in the eye while she knelt upon the floor with Harry and Ron both holding both of her arms. Fleur had her head hung, not in shame, but in a thirsty defeat while she still looked Hermione in the eye. Hermione continued to leer dangerously, ignoring how badly her insides were screaming to simply let herself sob and scream at Fleur for her behaviour.

The lava and blizzard had begun to clash again, steadily meeting and at the same time sending powerful forces blowing back to their owners. Fleur continued to kneel strongly, proudly – Hermione stood in a furious poise and continued to leer. The tension was enough to make Hermione herself pass out, but she did not; nor was she expecting Fleur to. But the manner at which Fleur's eyes were edged, the colour they had turned – purple, almost. A mix of red and blue.

Purple eyes had stared back at her, still shooting a violet violent blizzard to drown out the heat. But Hermione's fury overtook Fleur still, easily crippling her and sending her in a bout of epilepsy and rendering her useless. The woman fell over and at Hermione's terrified feet; staff finally arrived at the scene, Snape was spitting hoards of questions at a sobbing Hermione, McGonagall urging him sharply to remember his place and to stop cursing at her student, Slytherins were in an uproar of anger at Hermione, the other three Houses even wanted to agree – the entire school was in shambles and confusion and anger.

Hermione didn't even notice someone had brought up a chair opposite her and was sitting by Fleur, observing her sombrely. A defiant choked sob escaped Hermione while she continued to sit, wondering what to do. The person opposite her noticed her inner traumas and spoke surprisingly softly for someone such as he. Someone that Hermione could hold absolutely no hatred for anymore. She hadn't the energy for such a thing as hate.

"The school's all saying it's your fault," said Draco quietly.

"Let them say what they will," Hermione sniffled, "I didn't do a thing… Fleur, she just.. I don't know what's wrong with her, Draco… I'm.. terrified… _so_ terrified…"

"She hasn't been acting herself ever since she fell in love with you."

"She was _happy."_

"Fleur doesn't deserve to be happy—"

"How _dare_ you say that?" Hermione hissed. Draco blanched at her and took her glaring in stride while he continued to speak.

"She never told you, did she?"

"Tell me what?"

"Never mind…"

"Whatever," spat Hermione, "just watch your tongue. I'm already haggard enough… Fleur's struggling right now and I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with her."

"I told her you're bad news for her."

"She _loves me._ And I love her.. if it isn't obvious by now then you need to seek help."

"My vision is perfectly fine, thanks," Draco scoffed. "You don't even know the first thing about her. Don't start with me."

"I doubt you know her in the way I do…"

"Oh yeah?"

"I _see_ her, Draco. I watch her. I _know_ her. You don't. Not anymore, at least."

" _That's_ a laugh. Go on – try me. Ask me something about her. Anything. I bet I'll know the answer."

"Which eyebrow does she always raise whenever she questions something?"

"Uh…her right?"

"No. She only raises her right when she's trying to be playful. She uses her left side for all things serious and mechanical such as writing and wielding her wand. If she's touching you in a serious manner then she'll use her left hand, arm, whatever. Right is for her…good humour."

"…okay, Granger. You've officially creeped me out."

"You asked."

"Whatever—"

Draco and Hermione both jumped when the nurse and Professors emerged from her office. At the exact same time, Fleur's torso sprang up and she shot a deadly glance in Dumbledore's direction. The old man looked at her fearfully – Fleur was soon thrashing about and snarling and even cackling arrogantly at the same time. Hermione and Draco were pushed aside, Dumbledore and Snape both having to move to contain Fleur and her tantrum. She continued to hiss and spit dangerously, all the while making realisations creep upon the expressions of the two men while Hermione and Draco could only continue to cower behind them.

McGonagall soon rushed in, Lupin trailing behind her, and her hat topped about her head when she saw the state that Fleur was in. Soon they, too, had to join in along with Madam Pomfrey to keep Fleur restrained, noticing the feathers that were sprouting about Fleur's body and feeling the powerful twinges of arousal settling about the room like a wanton vapour.

"Minerva!" shouted Dumbledore, "Alert the Order this instant! She really is…"

"Already done, Albus!" McGonagall said, allowing room for Pomfrey to move to Fleur's face to pour a potion down her open mouth that was developing sharper and sharper teeth by the second. "Are you sure about this?"

"How much more evidence do you need?" spat Snape above Fleur's ever increasing cries of anguish. "The Dark Lord's tricked us all! We should have thought more of Fleur's headache and Voldemort going down too easily that night!"

"Exactly what is going on here?" Draco asked shrilly. Snape whipped around and winced at Fleur's attempt to claw at him.

"Tell your _Father_ congratulations for sparing the woman when she was a girl! Lord Voldemort _possessed_ her that night he was supposedly killed!"

Hermione could hear no more in any absolute detail; tears were stinging her eyes and she barely felt herself collapse to the cold floor. Draco actually rushed down to her side while she continued to wail, both of them barely hearing St. Mungo's Healers coming in, confirming her forgotten suspicions about who it was that was holding her in invisible disguise that night. It was Fleur… _Fleur_ had protected her and held her and kept her safe from harm that entire night in the Department of Mysteries. Fleur was holding her while they watched Harry and Dumbledore kill Voldemort's body. Fleur was the one who was the recipient of the man's wretched soul…

And now Fleur had finally lost it, spinning more and more out of control, transforming, and at the same time letting Voldemort speak triumphantly through her. Soon Draco was holding Hermione, ducking under a bed helplessly for cover while the doors to the Hospital Wing were blown open. Horrible cackles reverberated through the room, the walls of the room itself failing and vibrating dangerously with the tremors of reckless, gleeful curses and spells sent throughout the castle – Voldemort had summoned his followers. The adults tried to fight them away, Draco held onto Hermione for his own safety more than her own, and Fleur had finally stopped screaming once her transformation was complete. All Hermione could see through her teary eyes was a glowing, clawed hand hanging from the bed, soon raising while the adults were blasted away from her in a union of incantations and mirthful laughter.

Hermione felt the need to crawl from underneath the bed and grab at Fleur's feet she could see through torn Converse and further torn black jeans. A horrible flow of powerful, intensely arousing desire for everything was floating throughout the room, visible as a faint purple hue so akin to the acrylic that still lingered still on the woman's claws. Draco continued to hold Hermione back, placing a large hand over her mouth to silence her when the staff were all knocked out and the Death Eaters continued to destroy merrily while their follower swaggered out of the room with them.

"Rejoice," said Fleur in a voice that had melded Voldemort's with her own accented lilt, "I have been alerting you to my reawakening for these past few months. I am most pleased to see you all escaped from Azkaban. Yet again, might I mention."

"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius. Hermione writhed once in a horrible fit and Draco himself had to restrain himself while still holding on to her. "The Ministry deserves a visit from you, does it not? Let us continue where we left off years ago."

"Ahh, Lucius… Lucius, Lucius… I never did thank you for not obeying my orders completely."

"My.. my Lord.. I only had your best interests at heart. The girl most certainly did live up to expectations, as you see now…"

"Certainly. Certainly, Lucius. Now, let us move onwards to our new humble abode… But first. Lucius, kneel before me."

And just before they all departed, Lucius's pained cries ripped through his throat, vibrating horribly in Draco and Hermione's ears while Fleur and Lord Voldemort laughed. The laughter sounded strangely like the one Fleur had Transfigured that day in Defence Against the Dark Arts so many months ago. Just as the staff began to stir, the cries stopped, and they all left the weakened Hogwarts in a flash of cackling and cheering. Hermione could not feel a thing anymore once she felt the absence of Fleur in the room. She could only continue to lay in Draco's arms, feeling absolutely nothing. She didn't have the strength to ponder anything or figure things out or even mourn. The shock was too much too handle, too much to bear, too much to live with. Draco was right…

Hermione had not the strength to wonder about the why or how behind anything at the moment. There was no why or how anymore; Fleur was gone. She was… _gone._ Gone, gone, gone… And it _really was_ all her fault. All Hermione's fault. Or was it..? She didn't know, and she didn't have the strength to wonder.

This was a dark night. A dark night in the shape of Fleur's thrall and Voldemort's incessant survival.


	16. i'm sorry

_what've I gotta do to make you love me..?_

_what've I gotta do to make you care…?_

_**what do I do when lightning strikes me..** _

_**and I wake to find that you're not there..?** _

_what've I gotta do to make you want me...?_

_what've I gotta to do be heard..?_

_it's sad.. so sad. it's a sad, sad situation.._

_and it's getting more and more absurd…_

_it's sad…so sad… why can't we talk it over?_

_oh, it seems to me.._

_~Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word by Leona Lewis (Elton John, really…)_

_**xvi.** _ _i'm sorry_

" _Fleur…how come you look kind of sad sometimes?" asked a seven-year-old Draco while he and his friend sat in his room that night. "You're okay when it's just us but sometimes not."_

" _A lot 'as 'appened to me," sighed a nine-year-old Fleur. "Lucius is…"_

" _Go on, you can tell me," Draco said encouragingly, "sometimes he's not all that good. He does bad things, I know. He brought you here but he or Mother won't tell me why."_

_Fleur began to fidget with the ivory-coloured carpet that she and Draco were both sitting upon. The large window in the room helped to reveal a fair bit of moonlight to shine on their blond heads, Fleur's of course shimmering more so than her friend's. Draco's room was one he shared with Fleur as he knew she had trouble sleeping alone in her own – her nightmares plagued her incessantly and he didn't know why. Draco demanded that her bed be moved into his room, and his wishes were granted. Their room was stately for a child's room, but one fit for a Malfoy and his play mate – Malfoy embroideries and crests formed patterns on the grey walls, and shelves and shelves of books on magical control and victimisation, as well as French and Veela heritage. Draco and Fleur both frequented the books, the former as per demand of Lucius daily along with her training._

_Her clothes were of that of a Princess, almost – Lucius and Narcissa made a point to ingrain in her head that she was royalty. A purple blouse and regal black pants adorned her petite, yet well-fed and growing figure. Her eyes were cast downward to her small hand with fingernails growing that she had no means to trim. Draco began to poke and pull interestedly at her half-inch fingernails, and Fleur allowed herself a small giggle – Draco was always interested in her nails and hands. He had laughed upon discovering that she was left-handed, unlike him. Draco teased her playfully about his being ambidextrous, and even challenged her to sometimes complete their studies with her right hand. She always failed every time and Draco would always laugh good humouredly._

" _Aww come on, Fleur!" Draco pressed. "I'm your friend. You've been here with us for almost a year. You're turning ten next week! I think you're grown up enough to not be afraid to tell me things. And I think you owe me – I help you with English. A little.."_

" _Fine… Fine." Fleur sighed once more and continued to let the boy play with her nails. "You know Lucius is a Deazzeater, non?"_

" _Yes, I know." Draco nodded earnestly and looked up at her with curious eyes. "He tells me I will be one once I'm sixteen. Maybe. But what does that have to do with you?"_

" _Ze reason why I always stay 'ere is because… I am not 'aving a family any longer. Zey are dead…all dead… Lucius… 'e made me kill my parents… but my sister.. My sister…"_

" _What happened to your sister…?" Draco looked at Fleur sadly, though Fleur herself looked rather hardened instead of emotional._

" _Lucius placed me under ze Imperius Curse and 'ad me torture my parents and sister, zen kill my parents.. but ze Curse stopped working right after zat… My sister was just a baby, too weak to get away, and I 'urt 'er too much for any 'ope of fixing 'er. Fixing…err… curing? I do not know.. 'ow do you say – she would not 'ave made it even if I tried to escape wiz 'er."_

" _I get it.. So… You killed her…?"_

" _Oui.. of my own choice… from zen on I just… I vowed to make up for my sins. I don't deserve to be 'appy, Draco.. I don't…"_

" _Fleur…"_

" _Non… I feel so 'orrible. I do not even deserve to keep living myself. I miss zem.. I miss Gabrielle ze most.. but 'ere I am not allowed to miss zem. I continue wiz my training zat I do not know why I am 'aving. Studying and learning more 'elps me forget, but even zen I feel bad for… for distracting?"_

" _Distracting? What does that mean?" Draco looked baffled._

" _Mmm I am not sure." Fleur smiled ruefully at the poor boy. "My English still needs work."_

" _Mon anglais c'est parfait," said Draco pompously. Fleur giggled._

" _Yes your English iz_ almost _perfect."_

" _Mother says you're perfect," Draco said with a perplexed frown. Fleur shrugged._

" _Per'aps she means my 'eritage."_

" _You're a Veela."_

" _Part. Un quart."_

" _Right, right. A quarter. But still enough to transform, right? Just like we read the other day?"_

" _Oui. Only if I get très frustrée. Ozzer zan zat, no."_

" _I think you should try! Right now! They looked kind of cool in the books."_

" _I don't zink so, Draco." Fleur smiled and shook her head at his pouting. "I still don't know very much about being a Veela. Maman was supposed to…teach more. But zat will never get to 'appen now.."_

" _Oh.. well you can always learn! We are now, aren't we?"_

" _We are. But there are zings zat we 'ave not found out yet. Like love."_

" _Ohh well you'll be an expert at it, don't worry."_

" _I don't care much for it."_

" _Yeah, me neither. Father says to not bother until after I finish school. I won't meet anyone worthy until…then…"_

" _What? Why do you give me zat look?"_

" _Will it ever be possible for us to love each other? You know, like how adults do with each other."_

" _Mmm…non, I do not zink so. You are just a little boy, after all."_

" _Well I won't be for long!" Draco sneered playfully and Fleur nodded._

" _Zis is true."_

" _How about this…" Draco leaned in as if he was telling a big secret and Fleur moved closer as well, giggling a little at the glow about his face. "After we graduate from Hogwarts, I'll ask you to marry me."_

" _Marry me, hm?" Fleur raised her right eyebrow and giggled and Draco nodded._

" _Yeah! Then we can move to France and figure out why the grown ups like each other so much. Until then I'll threaten anyone who even thinks of asking you out, 'cause you're mine."_

" _We'll see about zat, Draco," Fleur said thoughtfully._

" _Yeah, we will once we graduate. I won't forget and you'd better not either."_

" _We'll see," Fleur repeated in a breezy tone. Draco smirked at her._

" _Until then, we'll be together though. Best friends."_

" _Best friends," Fleur nodded._

" _Stick with each other no matter what!"_

" _No matter what," Fleur nodded once more._

" _Good! If anyone tries to take you away from me I'll make them miserable. Got that, Fleur?"_

" _Oui. But I 'ave a question."_

" _What is it?"_

" _What 'appens if I lose control like Lucius is afraid I will do? 'E says 'e trains me wiz ze Curse because it is essential zat I learn ze skill to 'elp control my zrall."_

" _Even if it's a_ really _big problem then I'll stick with you of course! Why wouldn't I? Besides, if you ever become the next You-Know-Who then we can rule the world together or something."_

" _Mmm…if you insist."_

" _That's right!" Draco beamed before yawning widely. "Then we can kill all the Mudbloods and half-breeds and blood traitors in the world…"_

" _Why would we do zat?"_

" _Because they're filth," Draco said simply while his eyes began to droop. Fleur winced at him, wondering if he knew that Voldemort wanted her kind killed because they were supposedly filth to him. She herself was a half-breed…_

" _Why are zey so dirty?"_

" _Purebloods are pure for a reason. We're the best… everyone else doesn't deserve to live… they're underneath…us… Stay away from them and stick with me… Promise..?"_

_Draco never did hear if Fleur promised or not; he promptly fell asleep in her arms. Fleur held him loosely and looked down at him, wondering why his innocent mind had to have been tainted at all. There were so many things in the world that she did not understand, and Draco's dichotomy was certainly one of them. The reason why one's blood determined whether or not they were a good enough person fit to live was also something that frustrated her – who had the right to even decide that? Why was it even an issue to begin with?_

_But Fleur didn't have the courage to ever speak her mind about these matters. The Malfoys would only become angry if she did. She was frightened by the prospect of being left alone, however alone she was in her own world. Her fears, on top of her nagging experience last year, began to mould that night into an invisible muffler over her mouth to keep herself silenced. Since she feared saying the wrong thing, the best solution was to simply not say anything at all. Fleur would learn to study, to watch, to observe more – figure out answers on her own and dissect them on her own accord. No one was interested in what she had to offer or even what she believed. A part of her felt somewhat dehumanised, in a way, for all that had happened to her. Even a simple disregard from her_ best friend _that wanted to marry her in eleven years._

_Well, all she would have to do was disregard her early proposal and go about living her own life, keeping him and everyone else at a safe enough distance. Draco never would have imagined that_ he _was the source of her silence and future aloofness, not necessarily her traumas._

" _Wand at the ready, Fleur," said Lucius while he stood before her in the parlour, Draco sitting and watching attentively on the couch while he kicked his legs about absently. "We haven't touched on your Occlumency in quite a while. It's time for a bit of a brush up, just to make sure you are up to par."_

_Fleur nodded and gripped her wand in her hand to ready herself for the onslaught of mental penetration, but Lucius stopped mid-raise of his wand. There was an incessant knocking at the door. Lucius grumbled and motioned for the children to wait while he went to go answer it. Draco had a mischievous glint in his eyes while he watched his Father go, and he immediately bounded off the couch and took Fleur gently by the arm to go eavesdrop. Fleur followed after him silently, and Draco had the gall to actually have them stand directly behind Lucius while they observed him talking to a Ministry Official._

" _Good day, Mr. Malfoy," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lucius nodded curtly._

" _Good day to you too, Shacklebolt. What brings you here?"_

" _There are quite a few people searching for the whereabouts of a child. A young girl, about ten years old. I have information that she may be in Wizarding London and I was simply wondering if you'd stumbled upon her."_

" _Why no," lied Lucius, "I'm afraid I haven't_ stumbled _upon any young girls."_

" _You are sure?"_

" _Quite." Lucius pursed his lips while Kingsley looked over his head, attempting to get a better look inside._

" _Is your wife in?"_

" _No, I'm afraid not. However, I am certain that she has not seen any young girls wandering about recently."_

" _Not even any young girls in_ general?" _Kingsley asked with a raise of an eyebrow. Lucius's mouth thinned even more._

" _I assure you she hasn't. Nor have I."_

" _Do you mind if I come inside? It's rather hot out today."_

" _You do not have a warrant, Shacklebolt," Lucius said sharply. "Even so, you've no adequate justification for obtaining one. You asked me your questions pertaining to this girl and I answered them. Now please leave the premises before I have action taken to help you along with that."_

" _You seem quite defensive for one who has merely answered my questions truthfully," Kingsley chuckled. Lucius fought back a scathing remark. "However, I'm sure she may simply turn up elsewhere. Do let me know if you hear anything."_

" _Of course," Lucius said dryly. "Good day, Shacklebolt."_

" _A very good one indeed, Mr. Malfoy. A good one indeed."_

_Kingsley promptly Disapparated. Lucius swore under his breath and was about to close the door until he saw his wife coming down the pathway. He soured at her when all she did was shrug and shake her head, not noticing a curious head poke out from the door somewhere around his waist. Fleur continued to walk out the door, amid Narcissa's widening eyes and Lucius's look of confusion at his wife's seemingly random and out of place surprise. Draco followed right after his friend, also looking on in great interest what it was that was holding Fleur's attention so intently._

_Fleur was walking outside, trying to get a better look at a beautiful white flower that was by the pathway. It was a datura meteloides, she recalled, from reading a rather large book of Botany that Draco insisted she read upon finding out the meaning of her name. She stopped abruptly, however, and snapped out of her near drugged fascination when Narcissa stepped on the flower and stopped in horror that Fleur had fully stepped outside. Lucius was about to shout in rage but a Muggle saw her, recognising her from a Lost poster that the Ministry had tactfully placed about the city._

_And it was Muggle Social Workers that soon arrived on the scene, that took her away, that removed her from that house and from her only friend. They placed her in their orphanage while Lucius worked strings in the Ministry to keep her identity hidden as much as possible. He could not have her back, so he figured that hiding her from the world was best. Hiding from her from the world and only further secluding her._

_Nearly five years passed during which Fleur easily became accustomed to the solitude that was the damp and dreary building in the heart of Muggle London. She stayed holed up in her room and read her textbooks and practised her magic alone. If she was not studying or practising, she snuck out to the Leaky Cauldron just blocks away, Disillusioned of course, and went to Diagon Alley to either buy more sources of studying and practise or explore as much of Paris that she possibly could as a fourteen-year-old. Whenever prospective parents did come to visit the orphanage, Fleur kept inside and refused any requests of going to join the other children in her age group._

_The only time she did wander about the building was if she was taking a few hours of a break from her studies. It was amusing to her, to walk about the Common Room they had and watch their sickened stares and even some mixed with oozes of desire_ and _fear. They all watched her strut throughout the incredibly large room, watching the younger children play with their toys before finally noticing her. She was one of the oldest still in the orphanage, and everyone wondered and wondered why no one had yet adopted her; she was just so_ beautiful. _Beautiful, but still so dangerously mysterious and aloof for reasons that none of them could ever have the authority or maturity to grasp and pin down with words. She often threatened them with a wooden_ stick _if they approached her. She often chuckled deeply at their fear and surmised that she was just a horrible bully._

_Fleur found her amusement in the smallest of things and took pride in them. She didn't care if she was subtly being mean to them all or even making them cry all the time – they were all weak and underneath her. She understood what Draco had meant about blood status, now, and even though she remembered how hurt she was by his words, she continued to play her role accordingly anyway. It was her only source of entertainment, after all. And after years of the concept of Fleur gets what Fleur wants, she'd begun to disregard how the children felt whenever they were subject to her sneers and silent belittlement. She never said a word to them – simply her presence was enough._

_Any notion of the innocent Fleur she once was with her family, the loving sister she was, the nearly perfect daughter she was, or even the one that was supposedly supposed to follow_ society's _orders and marry a man – this Fleur never existed to her. The Fleur that studied incessantly and began to soak up oceans and oceans of knowledge faster and faster and with more and more pretention day after day – this was who she was. A casual rebel, a perfectionist in her own world of high fashion and intimidating poise, one not always looking but simply always stumbling upon ways to go beyond the norm – this was who she'd grown to become. And she silently dared anyone to stand up against her or try to prove her wrong with just a genuine look of boredom and disinterest with them._

_Finding a way to cripple anyone who did would be even better, but Fleur hadn't the time to even bother herself with such things._

* * *

Hermione walked through the corridors down to the dungeons, barely feeling her body on top of her legs as she did so. Silent rivulets fell down her cheeks as she continued to hover about the halls, not even stepping loudly enough for her footsteps to echo in the desolate castle. Portraits were destroyed, entire walls were blasted away, rubble lay upon the ground and she nearly tripped over several chunks of stone in her distracted state of mind. She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling her slightly ripped robes underneath her trembling hands while she continued to lose more and more strength still as she turned her walk into a pathetic shuffle as she continued on, somehow.

Fleur's screams, the horribly cut off view of her transformed body, and even the tiny bit that she did see continued to reel and reel in her tired mind, nearly gouging her brain out while her head throbbed painfully at the echoing recollections. She didn't have the strength to go find Harry and the others to go cry on them or even make sure if they were all right. Draco was still in the Hospital Wing, alone, suffering from a mild bout of shock while the adults were holed up in the Headmaster's office, wasting time debating about what to do instead of just taking action.

The Slytherins all left with Fleur and _her_ followers, even many Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors having done so as well. It was either that or their families were killed. But Fleur, Voldemort or not, held a scary amount of command and authority amongst the student body and this still hadn't changed. Many Death Eaters were on a killing spree by the bits of information leaked to Hermione while she passed some haggard staff on her way to the dungeons. Some who did not leave with Fleur were killed or simply toyed with. Hermione had no idea what they would have done with her had Draco not gotten her to safety.

But the talk of Fleur being a _Sorceress_ thanks to _Hermione…_

"Hermione!"

Hermione could only nod feebly while she stepped around a rather large chunk of stone; Harry, Ron and Ginny finally found her. By the sound of something flapping about in Harry's hand, she surmised that he'd found her with the help of his Marauder's Map. They had just reached the dungeons when the three caught up to her, and the portrait leading to the Slytherin Common Room was surprisingly in tact. The woman, Hermione discovered early on, was Victoria, the Roman goddess of victory. Victory…something that seemed quite futile at the moment to Hermione…

"Password?" Victoria sniffed.

" _Dies Irae,"_ mumbled Hermione.

Victoria nodded stiffly and muttered something about more Gryffindors soiling the Slytherin dungeons while she allowed the four of them entry. Hermione paid her no mind and shuffled inside with her silent, sombre friends behind her, in the direction of Fleur's quarters. The entire Common Room was still in perfect condition; even the fire was still crackling to offset the damp starkness of the room. Hermione kept her eyes downcast while she reached Fleur's door, reaching a trembling hand out to the handle and unlocking it with her touch before opening it.

Hermione automatically moved to ease herself down to sit on the bed while Ron closed the door behind them. Hermione gestured to the desk and bed and floor around her for them to sit, and Ron brought up the chair from the desk, facing it backwards while he sat on it to face her. Harry and Ginny both sat on the floor, the both of them as well as Ron looking at her sadly. Hermione swallowed a horrible lump in her throat that stung and tasted of blood while she looked about the room.

Vestiges of both her and Fleur still lingered strongly throughout. Books were piled neatly on the desk behind Ron, posters of French celebrities still filled the walls, as well as newer number charts, more detailed star charts of the Leo and Virgo constellations, random lists Fleur and Hermione had made together about possible places to seek residence once they decided to move out… The other lists were many and long, and consisted of joking notes for Fleur to keep in mind when it was that time of the month for Hermione, of what they both would like to accomplish before they passed on, even silly, far off things like names for future children were there. They were there, and burned passionately inside of Hermione while she continued to look around. Both she and Fleur were so alike in their organisational minds and skills, but they were vast in their own, intricate ways that left Hermione craving more and more every time she but _blinked_ and missed seeing more of Fleur.

"Hermione…?" Ginny asked timidly. Hermione slowly craned her head and eyesight to her and nodded weakly. "We're sorry… we didn't even know what was going on until…until she left.. Oh…and Colin told us to give these to you…" Ginny reached in her robes pockets and pulled out a multitude of pictures. She handed them to Hermione, who took them but could not look at them. "They're of you and Fleur.. he was going to give them to you as a graduation present, but.."

"Yeah…" said Ron, "and.. well…some of h…some of the Death Eaters stayed around to try and destroy the Gryffindor Tower but McGonagall 'n Lupin fended them off.. But…but Hermione, this isn't your fault.. Don't go thinkin' that.. you'll go mad, you will…"

"He's right," Harry said gently, "and we're here. We can help you. Fleur's important to us too but we know how much she means to you… What do you want to do..?"

Hermione said nothing. Her friends glanced at each other fearfully when she stood and floated over to one of Fleur's many bookcases. She disregarded her friends' words while she searched one row in particular after seeing a strange glint of gold somewhere behind one of the books. She reached behind the thin leather-bound book and retrieved a placard. Rectangular, golden, with ingrained text, mounted on a smooth rectangle of near black mahogany…

_Presented To –_

_Fleur Isabelle Delacour, age eighteen,_

_On this August seventeenth, nineteen ninety five_

_Our newly instated member of the Order of the Phoenix_

_Whose duty it is to uphold and strive for peace and justice_

_And to protect with strict devotion those dearest to us_

_Put prejudice and evil aside and reach for the Light_

_Merlin's Best to you_

More understanding flooded Hermione's system while she nearly drowned the placard in her tears. Her hand automatically reached out to retrieve the out of place chocolate brown leather-bound book, which was in fact a journal. She shuffled back over to the bed and sat, holding both in her arms and fearing she would soon cry all of the water out of her system at this point while her friends continued to look up at her. It took a good ounce of her willpower to loosen her arms and hand the placard to Harry with a shaky hand. He took it from her carefully, and the three of them also seemed to understand a great deal while Hermione busied herself with opening the journal.

She finally did manage to open it and discovered that it was completely empty save for the first page, front only. The page had some sort of pouch sewed in at the very bottom, but she disregarded it for the moment while she flipped back to the first page. Hermione laughed dryly at the date – this was written just on the twenty sixth of that month, just days earlier. She read aloud what was written as she read, though her voice was weak, ebbing and flowing with the current of her emotions and resolve while she readily drank Fleur's lovely handwriting; it was in the shape of ribbons, it seemed. Long, flowing S's and F's, almost loops for E's, underscore I's that were never dotted, double T's crossed with the same line, and profound capital H's that were the start of Hermione's name spread like wildfire throughout the pages…

"My love is a fever.. longing still, for that which nurses the disease; feeding on that which preserves the ill, the confusing sickly want to please. My reason, the physician to my love, angry that his prescriptions are not kept, has left me, and I now desperately prove that desire is death, which physic could not do.

"Past cure, I am, and I care not. I am frantic…mad…with evermore unrest; my thoughts and words are madmen's, they are random and truth is vainly expressed. For I have sworn Hermione fair, and _know_ her bright – she is my stubborn, scowling angel and will forever be my…Light..

"Or just an angry angel, so says Fred. Or George… I can never remember who is who. There is something…fulfilling about this situation we're in right now. Hermione is always angry at me…angry at something I can't control. I keep hearing _voices…_ voices saying that I can have the power to make it all stop… I can have the power to make her my Queen and sell her my soul and bring the very universe to her feet..

"Would Hermione still love me if I did seize this power I'm supposedly to inherit…? Aspire to whatever greatness it is I am supposed to achieve according to Lucius Dearest.. But love is not love that alters when it alterations finds, is it not..? If she doesn't love me anymore after that then she never loved me to begin with… Oh, no.. love is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken, right? It is the star to every wanderer…whose worth's unknown, although his height can be taken.

"I can say that I love her more than anything I have ever loved.. but I can't measure that. I don't want to… Death…is inevitable…as is the passing of beauty.. but love is not subject to change – only growth… I know my love is ever growing, never slowing; Hermione always yanks me up and rips me back down in chains to her, making me beg to her, pleading to make the pain go away… she doesn't like me this way. She hates me… She's told me too many times to get away from her when _all I want is her…_

"But love bears everything out, even to the edge of doom… she still loves me; she hasn't left me, though she's _always_ pushing me away.. She hasn't left me because she still loves me and she's _trying…_ God she loves me… maybe I should take this power. Maybe I should seize it. Maybe I should make it so that I can easily give her anything she wants, build her a throne atop the highest cloud and make her a new universe, just for her, on her new place in heaven. I want her to sit beautifully, flaunt her power with her majestic grace, and watch _her_ creation, my hopelessly lovesick self, be her pawn. Her knight, her Light, her _everything,_ most especially…at night…

"She would still love me…wouldn't she..? She would… if not, then she never really loved me and no one ever will… if this is an error, and I'm proved wrong…then let it be truth that I've never written or uttered such praise for her. Let it be truth that _no one_ has ever loved if I'm wrong about this… And let this sickening, feverish passion I have for her die….die before swaying like a willowy wisp in the wind before her so that she can blow me out… at least give me that much..

"But if the day comes that I find that I am right…or really, just on Christmas this year the day before our anniversary… I will get down on bended knee with her atop that highest cloud, wherever it may be, and ask her…to… to m-marry…me… I will ask her with this ring I found in Tiffany's in Paris just a few weeks ago and had it c-customised… maybe… m-maybe h-hopefully b-by then I'll have c-calmed down… M-maybe a-after we get married we c-can put that list of b-baby n-names to use… Th-there's a wonderful store in Paris th-that will suit our needs… until th-then, let m-me keep l-loving her w-with all I have… l-let me h-have the strength to _give…_ give Hermione, Hermione, and _only_ Hermione a-absolutely everything I have to give and everything I d-don't have but s-still _want_ to give… And hope that w-we both live to see another day.."

Hermione braved reaching inside the pouch with shaky digits, and her thumb and index finger wrapped around a folded piece of parchment. There was another item inside but she chose to discover what the parchment was of first. She opened it and found a decently-sized sheet with Fleur's handwriting on it again. It seemed to be several months old compared to the creases and how dark it was in comparison to the parchment in the journal.

And once Hermione realised what it was…

"I-it's her _will…_ B-basically giving everything to.. to _me_ … Telling me where t-to find her key t-to her v-vault in Gringotts…"

Hermione sat in a silent shock for a moment before reaching in the pouch once more, unsure as to whether she was ready to let the new information sink in quite yet. She felt a cool band and gently eased it out, feeling her anxiety grow more and more until she finally did pull it out. Harry, Ron and were near tears, Ginny actually crying herself now that Hermione had pulled the ring out. The four of them nearly lost their breaths while they took in the sight of first the chocolate brown band, and then the sizable black diamond on top.. Hermione nearly dropped the precious jewel while she turned it to inspect what she surmised was text ingrained on the bottom.

"Scowl & Sneer, it s-says… oh my God… oh my _God.."_

Heat flushed to Hermione's face immediately while she clasped the ring in her trembling hand and held the journal close while she slowly sunk to the floor. Ron quickly moved to pick up Noel from his place on the pillow and hand it to Hermione before moving to hold her, Harry and Ginny soon doing so as well. A very long time passed that Hermione could only sit in their arms and cry, nearly screaming and thrashing around at times while she held the ring and the journal and the pictures and Noel. The screams, the screams, the _damned screams_ continued to echo in her mind and reflect right on her throat while she ripped them out, still wailing and sobbing and howling to the point of nearly cracking her ribs and lungs from a terrible lack of breathing.

Too much of a good thing had led to this… Fleur fell and only continued to fall and fall and fall in love more and more and more with Hermione, letting her barriers down so much to the point of insanity with the soul of a wicked, wicked man inside of her… At the top of her lungs, and in Hermione's arms she felt a part of her just… _die…_ Maybe even a part of Fleur. Fixing the situation was nigh impossible; she couldn't defeat Fleur _and_ Voldemort… Possession was impossible to fight, Fleur was just as impossible – but her love and the tears and the screaming were even worse…

But even if Fleur did allow this to happen because of a loss of control _and_ because she wanted to make Hermione her Queen…it didn't matter.. Hermione still loved her, and she _knew_ that Fleur still loved her as well. That did help to stop the tears after nearly hours, but Fleur's smiles and words and laughter and _screams_ still rang so much within that she just wanted it to all stop… A simple _sorry_ wasn't even enough, no matter how much she had to, wanted, _needed_ to apologise…

_Guilt_ wasn't even a good enough word to describe the feeling, though the word itself was its very definition. That didn't seem to matter; reality had altered itself and Hermione could not, would not, _did not_ want to handle it.

* * *

Days passed and Hermione could do nothing but sit within herself. The staff refused to let students out, though Hermione knew well enough that there were plenty of hidden passageways to sneak out to Hogsmeade if need be. Sleeping was difficult for everyone – not knowing whether the one they all looked up to would be back to kill them in their sleep or not was pure torture. But for Hermione, Fleur's screams continued to plague her, night or day, so there really wasn't _too much_ of an issue…

The Ministry had fallen easily according to what Hermione had heard through the grapevine. Classes were of course cancelled, the library was in shambles; it seemed as if every single area but the Slytherin dungeons were nearly destroyed. But Hermione found one more place that was in tact, and she was enjoying its solitude that night, locked away from the rest of the castle, at least for the time being.

Hermione was sitting in the bath in the Prefects' Bathrooms as she couldn't bear to bathe in _their_ room. All she'd been wearing that entire week was _their_ outfit. She was tired of speculating with the remaining survivors, a good forty or so students, who were surprisingly not angry with her or Fleur. They'd been meeting in the Great Hall that was soon repaired for at least having meals, and all were expecting Hermione to take charge and go after her woman. This was quite hard to do, considering that Fleur was now far more powerful than anyone, possibly even Dumbledore, and this was not exactly a positive sign that they ought to go meddling at the Ministry of Magic.

The only Slytherin that remained, Draco, did listen to their banter but was very silent. Even in slightly less than a week, he seemed to have thinned considerably and did not even bother to groom his hair with as much care anymore – a surprising feat for the boy. Hermione was extremely unsure as to whether to speak to him or not. Harry had told her to simply give him time, but time was of the essence and they had it not. All the adults in Hogwarts and the Order were _still_ cooped up in Dumbledore's office, bickering like children instead of _doing_ anything.

Fleur was apparently sitting at the Ministry and biding her time for reasons unknown; even the Death Eaters stopped their casual killings. The Minister of Magic had been killed, nearly ever Auror was either being held captive or dead, other Ministry workers were hiding at home if not also held captive or dead... it was all a mess. A big, big horrible mess that no one had any idea how to fix. It had nothing to do with Harry anymore – it was all her. Putting the entire weight on her shoulders made her feel like Atlas, but for good reason, she supposed… But, according to Fleur one night last month, she could handle it.

Though it was extremely hard to swallow, Hermione knew she could…

_After yet another bout of confusing behaviour, Hermione had left Fleur to go to her chambers alone and think on the matter. Fleur was in a foetal position on her bed, rocking herself back and forth while she had to keep from crying with Noel in her arms. She questioned her strength and will of character that Hermione supposedly admired so much in her. She questioned nearly everything that night while she continued to sit within herself and wonder and wonder why there were so many loud hissing voices speaking to her._

_Fleur pushed the voices to the back of her mind and focused on the nearer danger that she was clearly hurting Hermione so. She promised not to… they promised to not hurt each other. And yet here they were, separated for the evening because Fleur could not_ control _herself. But whenever Hermione was around, and they were outside, she felt so much freer; the castle walls and all of its Charms and Enchantments had no hold on her, no restrictions on her passions and longings. But Hermione_ still _wasn't ready…_

_Had Fleur not been experiencing such odd shifts in personality, Hermione would have been ready by now. But when Fleur was 'sober', she wasn't concerned about sex. She was perfectly fine letting Hermione drive the current and steam their relationship in whichever direction she choose. Hermione had the control, not her. Hermione was the one who had the first_ and _final say in anything and everything in Fleur's life, and Fleur knew she didn't want it any other way._

_But why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt when Hermione pushed her away every single time she crawled to her, begging for sex? Did it hurt because now she was aware of what was going on with herself whenever the shifts would happen? Or did it hurt because Hermione didn't want to trust this bizarre Fleur? Or maybe it hurt just because she knew she was hurting Hermione so… But Hermione never showed any signs of being hurt – she would always just_ scowl. _And Fleur would just continue to sneer as if she enjoyed Hermione's playing hard to get, even though she knew she didn't… She didn't…_

_Hermione was too stubborn to give Fleur what she really wanted, no matter what it was. And the best part was that Fleur_ knew _Hermione was quite aware of every single thing it was that she wanted. The absence, especially now, along with the torrents of confusion within sent annoying stings to her eyes and made her sob. The only times in the past year when she'd cried was over Hermione, and confusion over Hermione's actions, or_ just _Hermione. Because even being separated during class time was hard. Because being separated now was the hardest – because Hermione had told her to get away from her. She did understand that it was a disease of her love but Hermione still felt wholly uncomfortable with it. Fleur despised herself for hurting her but knew she couldn't fight it, or the tears…or the thrashing and screaming and frustration and complaining to no one that Hermione was simply_ too much _for even her…_

_And when she tossed around to face the other direction, her heart nearly jumped straight out of her chest when she saw Hermione sitting on the floor just at her bedside against the nightstand, hugging her knees to her chest while she sat in her black dressing gown. Fleur didn't even have to ask – of course Hermione heard everything. Of course she felt horrible, even if all she was doing was sitting there and staring passively ahead. Fleur hated the audacity she had for being so composed and calm_ all the time, _unlike her. Unlike her who used to have control and power and dignity – with Hermione she did not. With Hermione, those three words only existed for_ her; _not Fleur. Fleur wasn't even allowed certain_ words _in their relationship. Pathetic!_

_Fleur promptly sat up and threw a sobbed on Noel at Hermione's head and shouted obscenities and many an explicative when Hermione didn't even so much as blink. Hermione sighed through Fleur's near endless tirade and picked up poor Noel from the floor before she stood to place him on the nightstand. Fleur was still shouting and complaining for Hermione to get away from her, but get away from her Hermione did not – Hermione was soon sitting cross-legged upon the bed. She wrapped her arms about Fleur's trembling form, holding her close even with Fleur shouting and crying that she was confused. Confused with Hermione, above all, more so than with herself…_

" _Why, Hermione?" demanded Fleur. Hermione only rubbed her back in response while Fleur continued to cry against her neck and hit her gently with weak fists. "Why do you turn me into th-this…this THING I can't control? If it's because of love then it doesn't make any sense… Love, sense and sensibility – nothing is right anymore… And you do this to me… And yet_ I _feel the need to apologise, even though this isn't…my fault.. you never do anything wrong, even when all of the accusatory fingers are pointed at you.. but I always cut them off and make it so that people still respect you…even myself… Myself!_

" _I don't cry! But you have no problem with crying! Now that's all changed… Y-you're just this impenetrable force.. I can't fight you, this_ thing, _or even myself… You, Hermione, are something that I will never understand…an ultimate challenge, or a test, or some skill I will never master despite how great everyone tells me I am. But when I'm faced with you and I can't_ handle _you.. how do you think I feel…? You're so stubborn and bossy and righteous and if you can't figure something out you just scowl at it and move on.. but I can't_ do _that… you can't use logic to figure me out so you almost walked out on me… You're fighting for me…somehow.. you're trying, sitting here…_

" _But you_ screamed _at me to let you go and disturbed every bird from its tree outside… You shouted at me and brought the heavens down to render me useless while you threatened me with the lightning in your eyes and the thunder in your voice.. You're just this…this force I cannot wrap myself around no matter how tightly I hug you, Hermione. You are some imperturbable rock with a warm heart and a scowl of steel that I can never hope to even touch sometimes…not really… Sometimes I really wonder if I have touched you at all…because you've done more than touch me._

" _You've_ raped _my insides and that's what drives me to almost want to rape_ you _when I lose it… but I can't even touch you… I never have and I never will… you're just a ghost, a phantom of the woman I want but can never ever have at this point.. and yet I still love you. I love you, I love you, I love you…"_

Hermione had no more room for tears anymore, however much she wanted to cry. What she _wanted_ was _Fleur_ who was not around to satisfy her… She nearly felt sick from the arousal but she knew she could not help herself. Even now, with her sitting in the large bath, alone in the locked loo, wearing absolutely nothing but her ring…she began to wonder if the arousal was really such a bad thing. Considering how Fleur had given her the first _taste_ of release, however small it was, the recollection sent her soaring and she couldn't even bite back the frustrated moan that left her throat that was parched for _Fleur.._

The water amid her legs suddenly felt much…warmer. There were rusty chains choking her lungs, almost, from how shallow and almost painful her breaths were because she knew she needed something but Fleur was not there to help her figure anything out. Fleur _this_ and Fleur _that_ enveloped her, ripping her insides apart with guilt that she was actually craving such a thing at such a time and yet sewing her back together with enough arousal for Fleur to make her writhe and groan lightly. And this she did do while she let out a breath and closed her eyes, almost painfully, while she let her left hand with her ring move down, spreading her legs like a butterfly as she did.

Hermione sighed, damning herself for feeling overwhelmed and not worrying relentlessly about the entire situation, and instead forgetting about everything except for the real Fleur. The real Fleur whose allure fluttered throughout Hermione, speeding through her with a chocolate scent, burning her, lifting her up and throwing her _down_ over and over again that she hissed when her lone finger found herself. A groan escaped her pained throat, knowing full and well that she felt perfectly comfortable with this, imagining Fleur's finger there instead of her own.

Fleur's name escaped Hermione's mouth in breaths and murmurs, at first, while she kept a finger on a sensitive mound. She was convinced that it was Fleur's hand by now, imagining Fleur's gentle teeth nibbling on her ear and beckoning her to move up her finger up and down, which Hermione did. Fleur's sweet breath, Fleur's tender words, Fleur's dark, lustrous, sinful sexy eyes; they all belonged there, with her… Though a small part of her felt horrible for trying to rub the pain away with her finger, for taking the task away that which only, solely, and wholly belonged to Fleur; her love, her Fleur, her _everything…_

Somehow Hermione felt as if she deserved such a fate. She deserved to feel her body jerk about ever so slightly, but dangerously enough and with feelings so foreign and fanciful – this wordless punishment was what she deserved. Fleur's sneer, her aloofness, her blizzards for eyes, her ever freezing and immobilising _passion_ for her kept spinning in her thoughts, making Hermione continue to move her finger up and down on the same spot, and all the while she continued to castigate herself for _everything._ She knew that her quiet whining wasn't enough, but it was all she could do. It was all she could do…

Jolts ensued in between her legs, and her finger seemingly sped up on its own accord despite her weary hand. Her thumb had moved to put pressure on her skin and to hold her hand in place, her hand that she was convinced belonged to Fleur, moving it up and down on the same spot over and over and over, faster and faster and faster, harder, harder harder harder harder… Inexperience was not a barrier and nor was Fleur's absence – her imagination helped her to get rid of everything and to only focus on her whimpering Fleur's name to get off even more because she knew she needed to forget, at least for now. Just get there now, atop that cloud, and find Fleur again, hopefully… Hopefully…

Whimpering softly to the empty loo could never express how sorry she was for everything. How sorry she was to have made Fleur cry so many times, to have broken her promises, to have been so absurdly selfish… Hermione had no idea who she was at the moment but she had nothing on her mind except for the sounds she was uttering that she knew would make Fleur blush delightedly and urge her more. Even though the water, she could get a decent fill of her scent, urging her further… She had no idea if Fleur would ever help her with this, truly, but she still continued to plead anyway. Please, Fleur…please, please, _please…_

The jolts and spasms were never-ending, and the pressure building just underneath her hand were maddening. Her hand was almost vibrating in between her legs, and Hermione could only continue to whimper like a foolish puppy, breathing and panting Fleur's name, keeping her eyes shut to fantasise and just _feel.._ Seeing Fleur's satisfaction, her arousal, her pleasure, her absolute satisfaction at seeing her like this… The sounds escalated, louder still, and her thighs began to shiver and tremble slightly, more and more from the building tension. Hermione almost began to cry and wail like the baby she was for Fleur, still damning herself for the pleasure but knowing she _needed_ it… It felt so _good,_ but Fleur wasn't the one making her feel this way…not really… Would she ever..?

The guilt just made everything feel better. The climax finally began, and it continued, while Hermione continued to run through all of the promises she knew she couldn't keep to Fleur. She _should_ have been at her side, not trying to fight against her… but she couldn't just get her back on her good side by begging on her knees, despite how hard and loud she was moaning right that second..

A gentle haze began to settle throughout and overtake her right when she focused on her ministrations and how beautiful Fleur was. Hermione's sobs soon began to become as guttural as her cries, and the last utterance of Fleur's name helped an orgasm blow, and she felt a generous seep from in between her legs while her body convulsed; she shut her eyes even more and continued to whimper helplessly, from being subjected to the short-lived pleasure, and she knew she loved it. From all the times Fleur told her she'd _love_ to watch Hermione masturbate, Hermione herself knew that she wanted to see what the big deal was…

And she did…she did..

But Fleur was not there to watch Hermione lean back against the bath and bask in her orgasm lazily floating through her. Hermione could only imagine Fleur's delighted purrs and accented murmurs of approval for being more in-tune with herself sexually.

"Was it really that good?"

Hermione shouted incoherently and ducked for cover as soon as she heard another person's voice in the room. The person merely hummed their way over to the bath while Hermione hid herself from the neck down under the water, cursing herself for being so loud and neglecting the possibility of anyone coming in. And when she realised who it was that was walking towards the bath with a blue towel wrapped about her body, Hermione had to keep from shouting any more than her indignation.

"Luna?"

"Yes, it's just me. How are you, Hermione?" Luna asked calmly while she sat down at the bath and dipped her legs in the water. When Hermione merely glared at her and blushed furiously, Luna continued on, "Oh you're doing quite well? That's wonderful. It really is a dreadful time we're in."

" _Dreadful,"_ Hermione deadpanned, "it's _more_ than _dreadful,_ Luna."

"I suppose a good feel helps to wash it all away," mused Luna. Hermione scowled and blushed even more. "I'm not disgusted or anything, you know. It's perfectly natural."

"I… I _know_ but it's also a little more _comforting_ knowing that I didn't have someone spying on me."

"I'm a Prefect too, you know," Luna argued good naturedly. "Besides, I wouldn't worry yourself about it. I know it is taboo to even think that women do such things, but it really shouldn't be. There's nothing wrong with it. And if it makes you feel any better, I won't tell anyone."

"…thank you."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Luna smiled, "but you'll drive yourself mad, I think, if you bottle things up, especially right now. I imagine Fleur's having the same issues right now."

"And what makes you think that…?"

"It must be rather self-deprecating to have someone inside of you like that," Luna reasoned. Hermione frowned and Luna shook her head. "Now, now. None of us still here think it's your fault. So Fleur is in the Order of the Phoenix and was holding you at the time. I really think you ought to avoid thinking that just because Fleur fell in love with you that it's made her vulnerable. Because if I'm correct in my sentiments, I have a feeling that something is a little off."

"What do you mean _a little off?"_

"Well, for one thing, didn't you have a striking recollection of recovering from your Petrification and having felt someone's lips on your face and even _your_ lips?"

"H-how… how do you know about that—"

"And in the next year," Luna continued, "Fleur was looking straight at you while she had that nasty fall of hers."

"W-well… well, _yes,_ she _was—"_

" _And_ she made sure to take extra care of you while we were in the Department of Mysteries. I don't know, Hermione. I just wouldn't be so quick to assume that her falling in love with you started these chains of events just this year alone."

"But… but she never even cared for me at all before, Luna. She'd never even spare me a second glance whenever I looked at her."

"It's not just boys that take years to really notice people. Fleur's not much of a people person – maybe she just didn't realise that she fancied you until this year, once you were in much closer contact. You're always so quick to judge things and dismiss them if you can't hold out the facts in front of you and pick them apart. Has there ever been a time when you just followed your heart?"

"Yes… of course.. What finally told her that I feel the same way about her was from me following my heart. I kissed her in front of Ron's family, including Ron, and Harry, and… and I wasn't _thinking…_ I was just… _feeling…"_

"Like just now, I presume," Luna said with a small grin. Hermione blushed again and nodded.

"What's your… _point…?"_

"The point is," said Luna while she stood up, "you have a heart, memories, and a wonderful possible husband by the looks of that ring I saw on your hand. Even though they're all essentially Fleur…you _can_ use that against her, against You-Know-Who. Do let us know what you decide on. Or at least go see what Professor Dumbledore and the others are so busy having a row about."

"A-all right… _Thank you,_ Luna… even though I'm still thoroughly embarrassed…"

"Oh it's no trouble." Luna beamed at Hermione before making her way out. "You've come a long way since you found her, Hermione. A very long way indeed…"

And with that, Luna exited the loo and Hermione was alone once again. She looked around multiple times just to ascertain herself of this and heaved herself from the bath. She walked over to her towel and dried herself off while she observed Noel sitting on her folded clothes. After drying herself off and sighing, she slipped on her fresh undergarments and the fitting white shirt, black and silver jeans, and old black and white trainers. She picked up Noel and cradled him in her arms, thinking back to when she'd first began to wander the castle with him. Everyone else thought him to be entirely adorable, but she was sure they all questioned why she was subjecting herself to carrying a stuffed animal in her arms about the school like a child.

Luna did help her to stop questioning herself while she left the Prefects' Bathrooms and meandered down the corridors to Dumbledore's office. She had a feeling that Luna may have skipped off to inform her friends that she would indeed be in the Headmaster's office, and wasn't surprised to see Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, as well as Luna standing by the statue. Hermione smiled at them and continued on, uttering the password and going up the staircase alone, not feeling nearly as horrible about the situation anymore.

But she knew the worst was yet to come. The only problem was how she would deal with it, _if_ she could, and _if_ she could fix it.


	17. the only one she ever feared

**_xvii._ ** _the only one she ever feared_

_Gentle scratches of talons against smooth, dark wooden floor grazed and carved corporeal delicacies to join the gentle hum of the faint purple hue exuding from her. Torn soles of old shoes flapped slightly as she strutted, slowly, sensually, sophisticatedly, softly and still so deliberately through the dark Atrium of_ her _Ministry. Jeans swished in between elongated legs, toned, feathered arms brushed against a now extremely fitting white shirt, a lengthened sheet of blonde brushed against a poised back; every slight tear of her clothes gave way to the purple of her thrall leaving her. She had but one very large wing protruding from the back of her slightly ripped shirt; the wing was not extended, it was not sinister, it was not small – white, large, feathery, glowing golden just like her skin…_

_The small smile that was upon her face was dug apart and buried by her spade tongue, inching out just enough to lick her soft, full lips and retracting while she contemplated the situation. The situation, the two that were following her – they were infuriating beyond belief. Two were following her, two of her own, the_ only _two that remained – she made quick work of ending their lives, but she still had some use for the two followers right behind her._

_But these unknown uses were far too ambiguous to her. Ambiguous, abstract, atypical, perhaps.. Fleur raised her smooth head and allowed her purple eyes to scan the Atrium, moving her now inch-long talons up to stroke her more sculpted, prominent features pensively. She brushed a fair bit of hair from her eye while she raised an immaculate eyebrow at the statue of the fountain. Purple glossed over the sickly statue of the House Elf to the water. The water, even just the sound of it, sated her senses enough to calm her and help her think clearly._

_"My Lord?" asked Lucius. Fleur tilted her head to the side and folded her arms while she slowly curled her body about face in a feline fashion. She moved one hand just enough to resume her pensive stoking of smooth flesh while Lucius rose his head and continued. "You never did answer our question…"_

_"And what was the question, Lucius..?" Fleur asked, her deep accented voice still fused with that of Voldemort's husky drawl._

_"Exactly…why…did you…"_

_"…did you kill the rest of your followers..?" Bellatrix finished for him. Fleur raised an eyebrow at them and they immediately got down on their knees at her feet._

_"Bellatrix.. Lucius… Both of you are my most_ loyal _followers, if I do recall correctly," mused Fleur while she cocked her hip and bent her knee, tapping her foot impatiently to make a point. The shiver she saw go through the both of them confirmed her suspicions. "It is only appropriate to purge those who would only betray me. Besides, I don't think any of the rest of my so-called followers exactly enjoyed my new appearance."_

_"You look wonderful, my Lord," Lucius mumbled while both he and Bellatrix braved looking up at her. Fleur gave them a toothy, sinister smirk and breathed dangerously before sighing._

_"But of course," Fleur said coolly, "though I may have picked up her habits. Even still, Delacour is quite the fine woman, if I do say so myself. And this thrall…think of what we could do with it..!"_

_"Certainly, my Lord!" Bellatrix grinned and nodded. "What did you have in mind? Lucius and I would of course be most happy to help you! I would be, of course, the happier of us both!"_

_"Mmm…" Fleur continued to stroke her face thoughtfully, careful to not scratch herself, however appealing it may have been to do so, "I have thought of using the Granger girl to help me along with this plan. Hermione, yes.. Lucius, what is the status of the Repository Chamber in the Sorceress' Memorial?"_

_"I have tampered with it just enough so that it will have no effect whatsoever on you should we ever fall," Lucius said proudly, glancing predatorily at Bellatrix as he did so. "However, you will be weakened considerably once inside... Should Delacour ever be faced with enough of an emotional upheaval even after being freed from the Chamber, you will be at risk for possible destruction.."_

_"Worry not about that, Lucius," said Fleur dismissively with a wave of her hand, blowing more purple haze in front of her face, "it cannot be helped. There must be risks taken and I am not coward enough to simply neglect such an opportunity."_

_"Exactly what do you have in mind for your thrall, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked earnestly._

_"Ahh…yes, yes.. Fleur's thrall… You see, she and_ Hermione _have quite the lovely bond, with their relationship being most powerful. Despite it helping to break down Fleur's barriers, I admit that the feelings even overwhelm_ me _sometimes.. It is most tragic. However, I can certainly use this to our advantage and plant…seeds.."_

_"…'seeds', my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, confused. Fleur chuckled and nodded, casting her eyes to the high, dark ceiling as she did._

_"Yes.. yes, oh yes… I will keep that part secret. A surprise, if you will, when it works. Hermione will be an excellent back-up for us once this happens. But, again, neither of us will be without our weaknesses… Unfortunately. And yet Fleur's thrall.. it has the power to seduce, to control, to ensnare the senses, the mind, the will… To possibly even freeze time, just as it preserves her beauty…"_

_"How poetic," chuckled Lucius. Fleur gave a short, throaty laugh and glossed her eyes back down to her remaining followers._

_"It is again something I picked up from our dear Delacour," said Fleur with another toothy smirk. "She is very willing to essentially be Hermione's pawn. It's all so terribly romantic."_

_"My Lord.." began Bellatrix._

_"You may call me Lord Delamort," said Fleur with a raise of her right eyebrow. "Also, the French pronunciation of the 'mort' is of great import – roll that R and don't pronounce the T. It gives me a certain air of mystérieuse.. or some gender identity crisis. Ah well." Fleur feigned a dejected sigh while Lucius and Bellatrix smiled dolefully._

_"Lord Delamort.." Bellatrix continued slowly. Fleur beamed approvingly and chuckled, "you must be certain that the…the_ girl _and her friends are on her way. She will want to defeat you and have her woman back."_

_"For now," Fleur said simply._

_"For now?" Lucius drawled. "Exactly what do you have in mind for her?"_

_"A Kiss of Death."_

_"You're going to kill her?" Bellatrix screeched. Fleur winced and shook her head._

_"Even if so, wouldn't you just_ love _that, Bella..?" Fleur asked slowly. Bellatrix showed no sign of acknowledgment, and Lucius looked at her fearfully. "Hm? I asked you a question._ You, _my_ loyal _follower. Or am I just talking to myself? I've grown tired of that over these past few months, you see. Speaking to Fleur who thought she was_ above me, _who thought she could get away with not listening to me."_

_Fleur bent down, pushing her hips out far behind her as she did. Her back curled down while her nails unfurled just enough and close enough to Bellatrix's face looking up at her passively, trying hard to repress her fear. The sharp edges of Fleur's claws curled about the gaunt face just underneath her, starting at one pale cheek, pirouetting under a sharp chin, and curling over to the next cheek. Bellatrix fought back many a wince when Fleur breathed dangerously through her sharp smirk, inconspicuously cutting crimson trails about her face._

_Lucius and Bellatrix both watched, fearfully now, as the purple glow surrounding Fleur's body increased in fervour, ardour, power; both of them felt hazy and dazed, but continued to watch their Master with rapt attention. It appeared that Fleur was quite angry and simply covering it up with the sensual so-called air of mystérieuse she'd acquired from her seizure of power. Bellatrix seemed to be fishing for an answer to her Lord's question, but Fleur pursed her lips and shook her head, eliciting another wince from the woman while she pressed her hand over her mouth and dug talons in her skin ever so slightly._

_"It's.. rather funny, really," Fleur breathed, just audible enough to echo dangerously throughout the Atrium, "how attached I've grown to dear Hermione. She helped me, us.. Without her, I doubt Delamort would be speaking to you right now, holding onto your life in between her claws. It is true that love has the power to destroy me, but what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. Hermione…she has done this for me. I owe her a great deal._

_"And if it means submitting to Fleur's stronger will of making Hermione my Queen, then so be it. I do not have complete control over this woman's body, Bella. She is far stronger than I could have ever imagined. Hermione makes her stronger. Hermione will lead me to greatness. So, no, I do not want her killed. I wish to simply improve her. And to see you try to belittle her with your_ jealousy… _Bella, Bella, Bella…I thought more of you.."_

_"M-my… my Lord..!" Lucius said when Bellatrix began to gag; Fleur was increasing her hold on the woman and didn't appear to want to stop any time soon. "Wh-what are you doing?"_

_"Lucius, extend your arm," Fleur said over Bellatrix's increasing cries._

_Lucius obliged quickly and rolled up his sleeve. Fleur let out a gentle snarl while she smirked yet again, moving her free hand over Lucius's Dark Mark. She tilted her head to the side for a moment, seeming to simply be innocently lost in thought. Lucius relaxed slightly, but not even a second later he elicited a loud cry and shut his eyes in pain – Fleur raked her talons over his skin, digging in deep enough, not to make him bleed, but to make the magical ink bleed from his skin. Fleur's smirk raised more and more the louder Lucius bellowed, revelling in the agony filling her ears and ricocheting off of the walls of her Ministry. The talons dug down Lucius's forearm, ripping the Dark Mark with them, slowly revealing eaten, burned flesh underneath._

_As soon as her task was finished and Lucius retracted his trembling, weak arm, Fleur moved to do the same to Bellatrix. The new pain on top of the one from her injuring face made her scream even more, and Fleur was most delighted by this while her wing extended fully at her left side. The wing began to flap, sending a purple mist flying about the ground and steadily rising silvery blonde bit by bit from its perch. Fleur slowly began to rise from the ground, easily still holding onto Bellatrix as she did, bringing the woman into the air while Lucius looked up at them in terror, still clutching onto his arm._

_Fleur's leg was erect in the air, bending her clawed feet down while her other leg was bent slightly, gracefully so, while Bellatrix continued to dangle in the air. The lone wing continued to flap just enough to keep them both as high in the air as possible, Fleur now glaring at the woman who was bleeding profusely from underneath her vice-like grip. It was true that Fleur still had a fair bit of control over herself, but only when it came to Hermione. Her thrall continued to increase in strength, her eyes narrowed precariously at Bellatrix who'd begun to drool and lick at her hand zealously – Fleur was in no mood for Bellatrix's manufactured desires, and was especially not in the mood for anyone who made any attempt, no matter how small, to defile her woman._

_"Do not lie to Lord Delamort," Fleur growled, finally taking the opportunity to dig her talons further without any patience for making Bellatrix suffer slowly. "You dare disrespect Hermione. You **filthy** woman. **I** amthe one with the fool-proof plan, even should I fail when Hermione arrives. You are of no use to me, doubting the woman Fleur loves. If you doubt Hermione, then you doubt me. If you are jealous of Hermione, then you are jealous of me. She and I will soon be one… Separate entities.. but still one, powerful, romantic being."_

_Bellatrix's eyes rolled to the back of her bleeding head, and Fleur shouted in disgust while she ejected the filth from her grip and immediately sent her flying into Lucius's pathetic form. The violet was growing in power, more and more and more, and Lucius pinched Bellatrix to get her to stop her pitiful drooling. Bellatrix and Lucius both watched feebly as Fleur extended an arm out to them, making her palm face them while she moved her body about to face them in profile. Her nostrils were flared, violet eyes were narrowed still, and her fingers were curled ever so slightly._

_"I know you both doubt me," Fleur said loudly, "just as you doubt Hermione. I see it in your fear; I **smell** it in your doubt that I do not have complete control over Fleur. You doubt my actions, my decisions, my very being. You even doubt why I removed your Marks. Lucius, for you, it is because you disobeyed my orders. There is an entire **city,** a **metropolis** of living Veela in Diagon Alley that I'm choosing to let alone for now. Paris, Lucius. Paris! Despite the wonder that is Fleur, you failed me. And Bella, you dare insult Hermione with your wicked thoughts. I do not need followers. Hermione is all I need…"_

_A powerful gust began to erupt behind the two ex-Death Eaters, blowing at them, towards Fleur, just as every bit of wind in the room did. Every single particle of sound, air, movement, light, emotion; it all gathered right at the centre of gravity that was Fleur's powerful hand. Lucius and Bellatrix could only cower on the ground, immobilised by the anger gathering high above their heads. The sounds in the room all melded into an amethyst black hole at Fleur's palm still pointing down at Bellatrix and Lucius; more and more did everything continue to gather at the centre, building in strength, in magnitude, in desire._

_And then it all stopped. Fleur stopped gathering power. Any light in the room was gone except for the golden glow of Fleur's skin and feathers. Any sound that remained was from the gentle flap of her single wing. Any emotion that lingered still was the violet laser from Fleur's line of sight, burning Lucius and Bellatrix on the ground. Fleur merely smirked at them and shook her hair from her eye before speaking softly, but audibly enough for them to hear her as clear as crystal._

_"Love has given this to me. Such…sweet irony. I am a Sorceress; I can control time inadvertently, I can control emotions, but I cannot control Hermione. Not now, not ever…but she will stand by my side. And, depending on what I decide, perhaps I will be able to sit here and file my nails in peace. Hermione will come.. She will. But until then…"_

_The slice of pained, fearful looks upon Lucius and Bellatrix's faces and the overwhelming pounding of their heartbeats in their chests were cut short and overwhelmed by a loud vortex of emerald, two screams, and three tinkling bells of sinister laughter._

* * *

Soft fur over a plush, white expanse of a body lay cradled in desperate arms just under a sleek body of dark chocolate brown tresses. Any ounce of sanity, of patience, of understanding still remaining was hidden well in the clean fur warming such cold, frozen arms just under a fitting white shirt. Legs under black and silver jeans were crossed as she sat in the comfortable chair, though the comfort was lost upon her the longer and longer she sat hunched over and clutching onto Noel for dear life, wishing that everyone would just silence themselves. No one paid any mind to her steadily losing _her_ mind while she continued to sit within herself, feeling her patience slip from her just as the occasional drips of desire did amid her thighs..

_Currents of curves were rising against each other, with each other in the darkened night of their chambers. Cool sheets and a sheet of silvery blonde lay underneath her arched back, and just on her exposed, creamy skin rode a smooth, gentle, curious hand. Nails gently scratched new territory, inadvertently marking it as her own while longer, inch-long nails grazed down her dark tresses, inching down to the smooth of her skin. Breasts were pushed firmly into each others', and a brave leg was exploring amid svelte thighs just underneath her own. Moisture was building incessantly, but the leg dared not to relieve the tension; it was there, rocking in gentle circles, just barely brushing against the sex that she desired so but desired to tease._

_Five inch-long nails moved back up to sleek, dark curls and pulled in desperation, in aggravation, in impatience. Two lips silenced the woman, silently, with nothing but delighted groans to express approval for the woman's discomfiture with the teasing. Warmth began to ensue, ardently so, inside of their relentless mouths and in between thighs. Five other nails glossed down and over a slender back, gripping a mound in earnest, eliciting yet another groan from the younger woman. But the knee did not do anything further; a tongue merely continued on with much more fervour, lips continued to smother lovingly and excitedly, and the Frenchwoman could only respond, orally, appropriately._

_The sounds in the night air seemed to explode delightfully in both of their ears just as nails glossed over and down, just enough to tickle delicately and tease wonderfully. The kiss turned into a smile and more fervent explorations in between a sharp gasp and low, guttural moan. Throbbing ensued between them both, almost painfully so, and the kiss only increased in zeal while the nails and fingers continued to tickle and tease just as a knee was doing in the same spot just underneath. Free hands kept on with their smooth glossing of equally, sinfully smooth skin over precious arms, backs, shoulders, necks, faces, breasts, waists, hips, thighs, sex… And the kiss continue to blow out of proportion, but pleasingly so as more pleasurable sounds filled the chilly air around them, steadily filling it with the warmth both were giving each other._

_Both were frustrating the other so, and yet still pleasing them, teasing them, steadily relieving them bit by bit, keeping silent with kisses but letting the occasional flustered giggle escape them. More only continued to drip down amid thighs; husky, accented murmurs expressed approval while the source of the voice escaped the hold of the lips above her own and inched down to suckle her honey and listen to the Queen Bee herself moan in earnest. Frustrated whimpers escaped her while nails began to tickle less and less, more and more, and then less and less once more. Sexy chuckles were her only acknowledgment, her only clue that the stomach underneath her own was warming extensively from the delight of hearing such wonderful sounds. And so the whimpers of the Frenchwoman's name continued throughout the teasing, but she never did quite get there that night. Neither of them did._

_This would be something that they both came to regret the next morning._

Fury, impatience, anxiety, annoyance, irritation, helplessness, desire, rue, exhaustion, madness, sadness – all of these had been swirling within while she sat with her eyes shut for hours while most around her only continued to bicker and argue and disagree. Hermione hated that everyone had to at discord be, no one could make up their minds and see that Fleur needed help right this instant! Everyone was so indecisive, intolerable, and absolutely, positively, and utterly impossible at the moment. Hermione opened her eyes and peeked at the words surrounding and suffocating her in the Headmaster's office that night, and tried to burn them all with a thousand mile stare to mirror her hollowness. She barely saw Snape's robes some inches away, flapping about while he paced the room with what little space he had in between everyone else.

Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, Dumbledore at his desk, Flitwick, Sprout, Pomfrey, and even Draco were in the office. Hermione and Draco were the only silent ones, and were the only students allowed in considering their closeness to Fleur. Hermione felt claustrophobic, especially with Draco right next to her. She felt him shooting daggers at her pained back, but the pain was not exemplified by her sitting position or even the malice of his glares – Hermione felt this way because she was aching for a woman that she could never have ever again according to what was being spouted throughout the room like oil, just waiting to be incinerated with the blazing flames of her disagreements and apathetic shouts and passions for Fleur.

_Just as Hermione put a particular bit of pressure upon Fleur's breasts and navel, she was warmed and rewarded with a moan, adding wonderfully to the sounds of exploration already in the air around them. Hermione chanced finally putting her tongue to use and prodded at the swollen mounds in between kisses, keeping her hold on Fleur as gentle and want-filled as possible. Fleur sighed and allowed Hermione entry, giving another contented moan when Hermione found her tongue; it was moist and soft just as they both were, and the kiss itself. Thoughts and wonderings and questions escaped Hermione's mind while she quickly allowed herself to simply let the pull in Fleur's every direction keep her going, fully-intent on pleasing her, easing her, and still somehow seizing her as compassionately as possible._

_Fleur's hands had begun to explore, still sensually frivolous, still driving Hermione further and further to deepen the kiss as much as she could. Fleur seemed very willing to watch Hermione with her senses, Hermione herself hypersensitive to the feel of feather-tipped digits and nails crevassing the muscles of her back, dipping lower and lower. Just as Hermione felt the pang of needing air finally overtake her no matter how much she wanted to continue basking in the ardour that was Fleur and her ever-braving tongue, Fleur's braver hand had slipped underneath the water and cupped a smooth mound without her even realising it._

_Hermione jumped and broke the kiss without meaning to, Fleur opening her eyes in shock and realising what she'd done. What made Hermione jump the most was how much lovely pressure Fleur had placed there; Hermione was gaping at her while they both caught their breaths vigorously. Fleur tried to remove her hand but Hermione moved hers from Fleur's back and placed it behind her, smiling all the while. The deer-caught-in-headlights look upon Fleur's normally level face made Hermione bury her head in the crook of Fleur's neck and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter; she really wasn't a control freak when it came to her._

_And when Fleur pulled her closer with the arm still wrapped about her form, laughing loudly right along with her, this, Hermione realised with tears pouring from her eyes while she continued, was the first time she'd ever heard Fleur laugh like this. Any other time Fleur would only let a sexy chuckle escape her, and it wasn't as if either had ever done anything in front of the other that would make them laugh so much._

"Why would she expect Granger to join her!"

"It _could_ be a trap, you never know!"

"As if Granger's daft enough to really join the Dark side!"

"Why are we still sitting here? Fleur's defenceless and waiting for us by the looks of it! The raids've stopped and her followers are no more! We need to act!"

"Fleur? _Defenceless?_ Lupin, I think you need to think about what you just said. The Dark Lord is not as simple as you think… _her…_ to be!"

"Foolishness! Fleur _must_ have some degree of control over herself! We need to act before You-Know-Who takes over completely!"

"Minerva, don't bother yourself! It's useless!"

"But what about Hermione?"

"What _about_ Granger? She can't do anything! None of us can!"

"She's not _impossible_ to defeat!"

"I think _not!"_

"Severus!"

"She's not even in the Order—"

"I'll join, then," Hermione mumbled, eyes still focused on Snape's robes. Everyone ceased chatter immediately. "I'm eighteen."

"Then it's settled," Dumbledore said calmly. Draco snorted.

"Oh wonderful," he droned, "now all of our problems are solved. As if having Granger in your little group's _really_ going to solve anything. Fleur's too bleeding powerful. It's hopeless. Sitting here arguing only tells me that even more. It's not worth trying—"

"So you'd rather let _V-Voldemort_ fester inside of her?" Hermione snapped, jerking her body up to glare at him properly as she did so. Draco blanched momentarily before snorting again and shaking his head, sending strands of blond bouncing about his barely slicked back head.

"That's not what I said—"

"It sounded _awfully_ akin to that, Malfoy. _You're_ the hopeless one—"

"At least I'm not sitting here clutching onto some bloody toy otter like a little girl! Look at you! And you call yourself _so_ in love with her, but you're not doing a damn thing! You're bleeding _pathetic,_ Granger—"

"How _d-dare_ you!" Hermione stood and clutched Noel in one hand, balling her other one at her side while she towered over Draco's cowering figure. Everyone could only look on in pure shock. "Draco Malfoy, you've been doing _nothing_ but NOTHING this whole time, just like we have! You're not the one whose girlfriend's turned into the most powerful S-Sorceress in ages! You really _are_ saying you'd rather let Fleur alone and have Voldemort destroy us all!"

"I n-never said that—"

_"Yes. You. DID,_ Malfoy! And if you must know, this _toy_ is something that brings Fleur and me together! She _does_ have a heart and she loves _me!_ How do you think I even _feel_ right now! And all the while, her so-called _best friend_ is sitting here, making me feel even worse! You're just as clueless as the rest of us as to how to go about fixing this! You are absolutely _horrible_ to her in every way possible, I hope you know that! It's one thing if you won't accept _me,_ but if you'd rather accept letting Voldemort having a chance to live inside of her for the rest of her life instead of being just a _little_ optimistic, then you are _so_ much more of an incessant prat than the one I've had the misfortune to meet and put up with for these seven long years!"

Hermione snorted loudly at Draco and barely watched him flinch horribly before she whipped about and stormed out of the Headmaster's office amidst everyone's incredulous stares. She was that infuriated that she didn't even realise that she'd thrown Noel at Draco's head during her tirade, but her legs continued to emblazon a trail behind her as she walked powerfully about the halls. Her ears could easily pick up the sounds of people following her, and even the sounds of Draco's weak voice, but she cared not for them. Her trail was already following her to the Entrance Hall, though she knew the castle doors were locked shut. She could still hear Draco calling out to her, on top of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville hot on her trail. She wanted desperately to tell them all to go away, and that she wanted to handle this, whatever _this_ was, on her own. Fleur was hers and her burden alone to deal with.

As soon as she arrived at the Entrance Hall, but a deeper scowl and a brief sneer later, her wand was in her hand and being pointed to the doors as she approached them at an alarming rate. After a non-verbal Gouging Spell, a sufficient hole was hollowed out – a feat that should have been impossible given Hogwarts' ample security measures, but nothing, absolutely _nothing_ could keep Hermione in that castle and away from Fleur any longer. Her thin soles continued on, and her feet now began to smash against the marble floor, stomping faster and harder to get her out of there and out into the night. Though it wasn't raining, she tried her hardest to imagine rain while she began to run, dash, and even sprint through the courtyard to get as far away from everyone else as possible.

Columns and archways and fountains and tile and the very night air around her could only watch as Hermione sped through the darkness, treading lightly but still carrying her entire burden on her shoulder as she ran swiftly out to the grounds. The biting cold could only gnaw and eat away at her insides while she dissected ample oxygen from it all to keep going, and making up for whatever she could not consume with her memories that kept her heart pounding and her legs pounding faster and faster to get away from Hogwarts, away from everyone else, and to get to her love as soon as possible. The frustrations and impossibilities and wants and justice and disregard all wanted to confuse her but she didn't let them; she just wanted to see Fleur now, to set things right in any way possible, no matter what that entailed. If she had to drown her beliefs to be with Fleur, then so be it.

_"Hermione, stop!"_

_Hermione only ran faster while she shut her eyes. The tears were stinging, just like Fleur's obvious concern and the assurance that she hadn't switched. The obvious solution was to just go back inside, but that was too much of a temporary solution to a completely ambiguous and nonsensical problem! Hermione didn't care that she was being the same, running blindly about the grounds. She should have slipped and fell on the grass ages ago, or ran into a tree, a building, something…_

_But she could not deny that Fleur was guiding her. Fleur had so much control over her, even when she couldn't notice. Hermione was needy and scared and insecure. She was bossy and stubborn and full of bravado. But only when she remembered to be as such. And when she forgot…Fleur was there to fill the void, even though all of this was doubting Hermione's trust in Fleur to see who she really was anymore. The real Hermione had begun to hide behind Fleur and isolate herself from her friends. The real Hermione used to hide behind dusty old textbooks and grades, but thence came along Fleur who could do anything without even lifting a finger._

_And yet that same Fleur was still chasing her. She was still guiding her, even still with her eyes shut against the blades of the rain and tears against her eyes._

Further down the sea of evergreen she went, reminded strongly of the fine emerald she'd come to love so much on Fleur's uniform, trying hard to visualise a sheet of blonde flipping to and fro in front of her, tipping at the end like a dove's tail and beckoning her faster and farther and harder with the ease of a hypnotist but the fervour of the one and only Fleur herself.

The pummelling sounds of heartbeats raped and attacked and pounded away at Hermione's insides, making her strive to run as fast as her heart and run _with_ her heart, still somehow able to imagine Fleur being that very heart that she was running with. A defiant scowl was still on her face while she neared the gates of Hogsmeade. Not even a nanosecond could go by before she was away from the Enchantments of Hogwarts and free to Apparate right inside the Ministry to where Fleur was apparently waiting on her.

So many things had changed in an alarming way that Hermione could hardly believe how much she and Fleur both had evolved ever since September. September, and the day of their first real _conversation,_ Hermione's first glimpse of the woman that she'd come to love so much.

_Fleur was the embodiment, to Hermione, of something that she could never touch, never be, never quite understand. But her mind and heart was screaming from the very depths of her that she wanted this knowledge. Hermione needed something…she wasn't sure what it was she needed, but she felt secure even if Fleur was staring her down while Hermione was technically the one above her._

_Also, technically, they were friends… So, they needed to start somewhere. Staring and crying wasn't getting her anywhere. Hermione sniffled one last time and calmed her silent tears, at least for the moment, before she searched her throat and heart for the right tone of voice, a soft but certain tone, to hand to Fleur, to show her…something._

_That something…that inexplicable something kept tugging at her vocal chords, but she swallowed and endured the sting before willing herself to speak…_

_"It's nice to see you awake again… I'm sure you're wondering what happened…" Hermione licked her lips expectantly, noticing a strange flash behind Fleur's eyes as she did so. But Fleur said nothing. Hermione chewed her tongue a bit before deciding to go with just a soft tone with which to speak with… "I'm so sorry… This is all my fault… I… Well… You see—"_

_"Out with it."_

_"S-sorry…" Hermione flushed considerably and nearly kicked herself to not flinch at the spite in Fleur's commandeering and still rather hushed tone of voice. Still, the softness in her own tone prevailed while she tried as she spoke to find the right words, no matter how impossible it seemed. "Well… I assume you remember that I found you behind one of the greenhouses…?"_

_"Vertigo. I have it. I know."_

_"What…? How?"_

_Again, Fleur chose not to respond. Hermione winced; Fleur must have known what the dangers of the flowers were if she was trying to get rid of them… Fleur seemed to see the understanding swim through Hermione's eyes and merely continued to stare, to observe. Hermione blinked stupidly for a moment, completely thrown by the intensity in Fleur's eyes, despite how surreptitiously warm they might have been under the surface._

_But…now was not the time for that. Later…_

_"Well, Fleur… I suppose you can guess that I volunteered to, ah…care for you… I-it's the least I can do… After all, I hope that we're still…still friends. I'm so…terribly, terribly sorry…"_

_"You amuse me." Fleur's tone was ebbing with a cryptic edge but Hermione tried to let it go over her head._

_"What do you mean…?"_

_"You've never said a word to me in seven years. Look at you now. You're—"_

_"Pathetic… I know."_

_Hermione hung her head slightly, though unable to tear her eyes from Fleur's. The frozen gaze turned into a mock amusement, the trademark Slytherin sneer upon her face… Hermione bit her lip and chewed the thin layer of skin while she watched the shadows on Fleur's face flicker with the candlelight. Her eyes were too dark with something, a mysterious kind of something to see the fire in her eyes at all…_

_"Actually, no," Fleur mused, raising her right eyebrow as she spoke. Hermione widened her eyes momentarily, managing to catch a small bit of playfulness, however small or illusory it may have been._

_"Then what am I to you…?"_

_"You are…" Fleur thought for a moment, still studying Hermione's eyes. Slowly. Ambitiously… "You are… ignorant. I have other words… But I'd rather save them for later."_

_"Later as in when…? Does this mean we can still be friends?"_

_"Friends, enemies, rivals – whatever. I don't care, really. Your motives are shady."_

_"I… I know… I mean… I've just been so…so… frustrated… all these years."_

_"All…these years… Years… All of these years without me…"_

If Fleur really _was_ waiting for her, then the only thing Hermione could do was grant her wishes, for once not even thinking about possible consequences. She was just.. _feeling._

* * *

_"Do you really think we get reincarnated, somehow?" Hermione asked absently as she and Fleur were walking slowly through the grounds one afternoon just weeks earlier, holding hands as per usual. "It makes sense that we would be."_

_"Mmm, really?" Fleur asked interestedly, watching their legs walking close together. Hermione smiled and nodded._

_"Yes. I find it hard to believe that we just cease to exist. People've told me that I have an old soul or something.. as if I've lived as another person before."_

_"An old soul? So there are new ones and old ones? New ones as in people who've never lived as another before. I think that disproves your theory."_

_"Oh.. No! Fleur, really… Certainly you've thought about these things."_

_"Yes… but I've thought more about ending lives than just ending the cycling of souls, to be honest..."_

_"You mean…suicide."_

_Fleur stopped walking and held Hermione's hand tighter while she kept her eyes downcast, focusing on their identical shoes while she kept her silence. Hermione looked up at her with concern while she stood directly in front of her, clasping her free hand as she did so._

_When Fleur still showed no sign of wanting to say anything, Hermione situated her face so that her neck was curled down, easily letting her eyes peer up encouragingly into Fleur's. The small bout of hollowness in Fleur's eyes dissipated on contact, and she flinched ever so slightly at Hermione's surprising warm expression, even suppressing a shudder when Hermione placed her face on Fleur's chest._

_"You have me," Hermione said simply, "and I know it's still sinking in. Sometimes…when you smile, I can see bits of sadness in your eyes."_

_"I'm…trying, Hermione…"_

_"I know, Fleur. I know.."_

_"And do you know something else..?"_

_"What's that…?"_

_"Right now.. especially right now… I can't live if living is without you. So I don't want you to even think about…anything ending. Not anymore."_

_"But—"_

_"Just stop it, Fleur! Stop!"_

_Hermione removed her face from Fleur's chest and stomped her foot for emphasis while she scowled up at her. Fleur winced and nodded, finding the foot stomping entirely too endearing at the moment. Hermione's face relaxed surprisingly quickly, almost as if she sensed Fleur's mental approval of her actions. Fleur looked down at her questioningly, and Hermione seemed to have lit up with understanding._

_"I have a question for you," Hermione said gently. Fleur nodded and licked her lips. "Are you afraid of me…?"_

_"Afraid of you..?"_

_"Yes." Hermione looked entirely serious and Fleur swallowed, though the Gryffindor knew that Fleur had heard her perfectly fine and was merely fishing for time._

_"Why would you think that?" Fleur asked, and quite evasively at that. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes._

_"Well, for starters, you never look at anyone else this way."_

_"What way?"_

_"Sometimes.. you look at me with a starry-eyed expression. And whenever you do…God it sends me soaring. Sometimes…you look at me with lust, with begging, with want in your eyes.. that gets me even more. But the third look that you never give to anyone but me is this one right now – there's this tinge of fear hidden under this blue staring down at me. You're the strongest and most assured person I know.. it's one of the reasons why I love you so much."_

_"You mean you don't want me to be scared of you…?"_

_"So you are," Hermione breathed softly. Fleur said nothing and Hermione smiled gently at her. "Strength does include admitting your fears. I just told you now that I'm essentially afraid to live without you, meaning that I can't.. I just can't… But I can't see why you're afraid of me."_

_"I'm afraid of letting you down.. I'm afraid of not being enough for you, of not giving you enough, of not being able to prove to you each and every day that I only want the best for you. I'll stop at nothing to please you, but I'm still…afraid of you, just you, as you said.."_

_"I completely appreciate how much you want to take care of me, Fleur. I truly, truly do. As long as you do everything in your power and everything else you'd like, then I promise I will appreciate it. I appreciate_ you. _But I still don't see why I myself have to be included in your fears…"_

_"You are…" Fleur trailed off, still breathing the invisible syllables of her words while she bent down, slowly, decreasing the space between their lips as she did so. Hermione automatically let her eyes flutter closed and angled her face up, letting Fleur's soft, full lips brush against her own, "strange, Hermione… You are strange." Hermione did not open her eyes and simply let Fleur kiss her gently in between equally gentle words. "I will never…be able to understand you. There is.. a thrill… in trying, in giving myself to…you.. in hopes of being able.. to learn your ways…and to memorise… your eyes.. and the… twinkle and warmth they give me…and me alone…_

_"But I need you.. to understand…that there is just.. something about you… a certain… je ne sais quois…an I don't know what. It.. bothers me…sometimes, but I like…being able to kiss you.. and bask in what I_ do _understand – your love.. You are.. fiery…passionate…so intelligent with the concrete and the.. unknown that is me… You know so much.. and I don't…hate you.. for it. I love you for it…you understand me.. And yet I'm still afraid of that…of how…fast.. you soak up knowledge… how easily you soak me up in your arms, your lips, your mouth.. Pleasing you, one day, will be the death…of me…"_

Gentle footsteps echoed through the spotless Atrium, and Hermione continued to scowl while she kept her eyes straight ahead and her hand gripped around the base of her wand. She could hear one lone voice behind her, one pair of footsteps shuffling just in her wake, of the only one who, ironically enough, had the courage to follow her all the way and the common sense to figure out where she'd Apparated to. Draco was complaining, muttering to himself about having to carry Noel, but Hermione paid him no mind. She was too busy honing in on any other sounds she could possibly pick up in the dark, empty great space surrounding them while she absently ran her thumb along the band of her ring.

Hermione and Draco had walked all the way to the fountain in the centre of the Atrium, just past the extensive range of fireplaces connecting to the Floo Network. Sure enough, not even seconds after Draco began to whine about them being alone, completely vulnerable to Fleur, several eruptions of emerald spouted about the room, revealing all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as the rest of Hermione's comrades.

But Fleur was smart, _obviously_ – the second they all arrived, they were trapped behind invisible, sound-proof walls and they could not Disapparate or Floo back. They could only watch as Hermione stood her ground, waiting for something, _anything_ else to happen, presumably Fleur's arrival. While she waited, she honed in on the view of the fountain, watching the water curiously. Draco was spouting some nonsense about leaving, but Hermione was too engrossed in the questions treading softly through her mind in regards to water. Veela were water nymphs, were they not..?

_"Mmm…Hermione, you humour me."_

_"What do you mean…?"_

_"What are you really trying to ask me?"_

_"I just want to know…how you…feel…about me…" Hermione wasn't entirely sure herself what she really meant, but Fleur showed no sign of befuddlement. Her grace was exemplary, really…_

_"I love you."_

_Fleur's mouth curled into a lazy smile while she watched the red rise in Hermione's cheeks once more. Perhaps it was just now that Hermione realised how her heart was beating, feeling so overwhelmed with flattery and bliss that Fleur really meant what she said. A giddy part of her may have even imagined herself boiling in the water now, melting into an extremely grateful friend. She tried to muster something to say, the horrifying realisation that she was smiling stupidly at Fleur attacking her._

_Instead, she crawled to the other side of the bath and held her friend, fully aware that she was sitting right in between Fleur's legs. Her own were at her side while she kept her head in the crook of Fleur's neck, closing her eyes contentedly when she heard the water shift one last time before being enveloped in warm, strong arms._

_"I love you too," Hermione whispered to Fleur's soft, lukewarm neck._

_They sat there in silence for a while, Hermione enjoying Fleur's company immensely while she let herself become swept away in the current of serenity she was in. She hoped that Fleur was right with her, and a stronger part of her never wanted Fleur to let go of her._

_Neither of them touched each other further than undressing each other and Hermione carrying Fleur to and from the bath each time. The undressing in and of itself was very…sensual, Hermione had to admit. Something she'd never experienced before with anyone. It was nice…_

_Feeling Fleur's arms around her bare flesh was just as nice, she concluded dreamily. A night away from her and she'd forgotten the whole reason why she became so caught up with Fleur – she did love her strongly. Hearing Fleur tell her was extremely relaxing and self-fulfilling. Harry and the others had a different kind of friendship with her. But the one she and Fleur shared was so much deeper, even if they hadn't known each other like this for years. There was no need, Hermione surmised. A few months was all it took for Hermione to see how much she really cared for Fleur, despite their rocky past and disagreement of friends and supposed House rivalry._

_"Fleur…" Hermione began softly._

_"Hm?"_

_"Is it silly that I admire you so…?"_

_"No. I just don't see why you would."_

_"You don't care about things…but the things you do care about…you care for them with all your heart. It must be nice to be indifferent to the things you don't want to be bothered with and be so immersed in what you do want to love."_

_"I wouldn't be so sure about that."_

_"Really…? But for the longest time you didn't care that I…well…sort of hated you… But now that we've moved past that, you've shown me such a wonderful side of yourself. I really, really appreciate that you're not afraid to be yourself with me. In my experience most people who bottle things up aren't good at letting people in…not for a long, long time anyway…"_

_"Hermione, I haven't shown you who I am. Don't mix things up."_

_"What…? But Fleur… I know this is who you are. You're so kind and subdued with me, like how you were outside… I can just tell. Besides, I know Malfoy and everyone else don't receive this kind of treatment from you."_

_"I am calm with you, yes. And no I don't treat anyone like this except for you. But like I said, you haven't seen who I am."_

_"Then show me…"_

_"You're just saying that."_

_"I'm…not… I love you, you love me…what do we have to hide from each other?"_

_"Nothing."_

After letting the water inadvertently still her senses, it left her barriers down and her emotions exposed to high degrees of sensitivity, ranging from boiling to steaming while she felt a dribble of sweat run down her forehead and settle on her set brow. Doubt had no place in her heart at the moment, but every ounce of emotional upheaval that she'd been experiencing for the past week began to grate her, slowly, exposing her chest to the palpable, blaring fear that was her heart beating madly against her, despite herself. Her heart could only carve out Fleur's name and every time she'd uttered it, every _way_ she'd uttered it, and every _where_ she had, too – whether out of anger or sorrow or pleasure or treasure she felt the subtle climax of what Fleur could and always would be able to do to her.

Fear did course through Hermione's veins, chilling her but still freezing in just the right way to keep her standing strong. The sounds of water cracking into ice did seep a glacial mist throughout, settling within as quiet, breathy voices akin to a serpent's tongue. Breaths continued to escalate in volume, from seemingly different people, varying in volume, all joining to become one meld of snake-like voices that only further pronounced the panic that should have been Hermione's entire being.

A cloudy miasma akin to a stormy night began to cloud her thoughts and attempt to blind her. She merely let the voices bounce off of her, closing her eyes periodically to intake deep, quiet breaths to still herself, keeping Fleur in mind and keeping her doubts at bay, while perfectly able to see the light shining through that was Fleur. But the snake-like voices continued to float throughout her mind, staying in the background while breathy, distinct, horrendously sensual accented voices melded with something sinister spoke to her, and only her.

_So weak, Hermione… So…vulnerable… Do you love me, my sweet..? Do you love me…? Are you so in love to the point of ignoring your fears..?_

"Yes," Hermione said sternly, proudly. Draco looked at her as if she were mad but the voice merely chuckled deeply, heightening Hermione's senses even more while she gripped onto her wand like a stress ball, trying to keep calm. But only he seemed to be able to notice how much Hermione was trying to rid the cricks in her neck.

_Are you angry at me…? Angry at Lord Voldemort, but in love with your Fleur..? I've practically killed her, you know. Don't you want to give me your rage…?_

"No." Hermione shook her head and shut her eyes momentarily, eliciting a deep chuckle while her breaths thinned considerably. More beads of sweat began to dribble down her face, and she barely heard Draco exclaim something and run off to the side to tend to someone.

_Rage more, Hermione.. Or at least let out your anger somehow, someway, before I find you… I know you hate Draco.. I know you do, ma chère… Such a coward, he is. He won't help you but he'll run off to tend to his Father that's cowering over there, just barely breathing.._

"I don't care about him."

_Certainly.. Certainly, my Queen… I believe you. Whatever you say. But if you want him dead, just speak the word and your wish will be granted… No matter what it is.. I have the power to give. I have the power to give you absolutely anything.._

"Let me see her."

_You are sure..?_

"You _said_ you'd grant me whatever I wish. So yes, let me see her."

_Smart girl… I chose well, it seems…_

A deep, guttural, contented moan floated through Hermione's ear, filling her and settling in the form of a fervent ardour just as a surreptitiously sophisticated gust of air blew from her same side, billowing in front of her, steadily. The air was mauve, filling Hermione with a bout of rage and passion all at the same time while she watched the haze grow a sheet of gold and sprout a very large, long golden wing, steadily moving past her and forming right in front of her the complete form of what she'd only been able to glance at from underneath a bed like a coward. And the air, she presumed was that irresistible thrall… the embodiment of every single one of Hermione's desires, carnal or not.

_Hermione honestly didn't think anymore when she did this to Fleur, but now she was fighting back near excited squirms from the sensations and the tiny jolts Fleur's hand kept sending through her system. It was almost as if she were massaging her way up her inner thighs while she dried, finally settling right in between, honing in on her sex._

_No one_ _had ever touched her there before, sans towel or not. She felt the truth settle as a very comforting haze right below her heart, the vapour hovering its way up to melt her heart more and more the longer Fleur worked._

_It literally was a very long time that Fleur lingered on her sex, Hermione noting herself that no matter how much Fleur tried, her efforts were fruitless – the younger girl seemed to be incapable of being fully dried there._

_Hermione was fully aware of how shallow her breaths had become, of how much she was tingling in between her legs, and of how her eyes may have even gone out of focus when Fleur removed the towel, tilting her head to the side in curiosity while she observed. Fleur was looking right at her sex, any ounce of disgust or discomfiture free from her regal visage._

_Something was building in Fleur's eyes that were somehow darkened with a strange haze that Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint. Hermione knew she wasn't uncomfortable being so exposed to Fleur, and her eyes knew better than to try and rake Fleur's form._

_But it definitely seemed as if Fleur may have been exuding her sex appeal a little more than usual, so much to the point where Hermione felt twinges of the allure. It wasn't overpowering, and Hermione merely blinked and it was gone, leaving her to be consumed in the fire of her own strange passions within._

_"Hermione…" Fleur began softly._

_"Y-yes…?"_

_"You're wet."_

_"No I'm not…you've been drying me."_

_"I meant in between your legs."_

_"Oh… w-well… I d-don't quite understand it myself, really."_

_"Mmm…"_

_And then Hermione's lungs nearly collapsed in on themselves when Fleur swiftly moved down and spread Hermione's legs apart, her warm, soft tongue making quick work of the bit of heat slicking from in between her and licking it right up. Hermione bucked her hips and shut her eyes while her torso shot up from the counter and she grabbed a handful of silvery blonde silk, a muffled whimper escaping her during the everlasting second that Fleur kept her dexterous tongue on her slick nether regions._

_The sensations that flashed through her and the accompanying images that shot right through her mind felt entirely too natural, however unfamiliar they were… A carnal wonder sated Hermione's senses while she arched her back and threw her head behind her, letting a guttural groan exude from her while she let herself bask in the newfound feelings. Feelings didn't even seem to do whatever she felt justice…it was something far more than that…_

_And Fleur, the sexy beast, inched her tongue up tantalisingly slowly, from the source of the heat to the mound of nerves and staying there, feeling Hermione pulse against her before she pulled away. Hermione immediately felt her body shudder and drown in spasms merely from Fleur keeping her tongue on that one spot, gently brushing a kiss on her sex as she did so…_

_And Hermione still hadn't let go of Fleur's hair while she slowly opened her eyes. She calmed her breaths slightly while she watched Fleur with breezy eyes, feeling more warmth in between her legs while she studied Fleur's still darkened eyes behind her fringes. Fleur curled her back about in a positively feline manner while she backed away, gently scratching her fingernails down Hermione's thighs while Hermione was forced to let go of the blonde gripped in her hands bit by bit._

_The nails felt too good on her skin. Fleur's hair was too soft in her fists. Her tongue was too soft and moist against her just now. The feelings were…strange… Fleur was her first in so many ways that it nearly scared Hermione. But was it a disturbing fear or a fear that she wanted to get used to…?_

A more prominent face than the one she was used to materialised from under the sheet of gold that was slowly forming silvery blonde locks over a slightly ripped fitting white shirt. Hermione gripped her wand once more when she noticed the rosewood clasped between talons, both on Fleur's feathered hands and protruding from her slightly ripped trainers. Feathers were even poking out from the tiny rips along the black and silver jeans over her elongated legs. But the worst part, despite the golden feathery arms and slightly whiter single wing nestled behind her, Hermione was completely taken aback by Fleur's eyes.

Purple. Purple was staring back at her, leering powerfully while the owner of such unfamiliar eyes stood in a perfected poise with a lecherous scowl upon her face. Purple was the colour of Fleur's thrall surrounding her, exuding from her. Hermione didn't dare show Fleur any sign of surprise and instead held her ground firmly, easily drowning out the presence of anyone else in the Atrium and focusing on the sound of her own breathing. It was true that her heartbeats were still pounding mercilessly against her chest and probably giving her away, but she convinced herself that the fear was non-existent. The fear had melded into a cold, hard, powerful, relentless reminder that she still loved the woman before her, even if Voldemort had taken over her body considerably.

Shivers crawled down her spine and skin while she and Fleur continued with their staring match. Neither of them dared to blink as they both learnt quite well how to do from their extended training sessions for months beforehand. Fleur extended her wing while she cocked her hip and bent a knee, folding her arms while she continued to glare at Hermione, drinking in the sight of her, basking in the fury that she'd come to adore so much in Hermione's eyes. Fleur shook her hair behind her while she continued to stand, to observe, to watch, to study…

 

"Hermione," Fleur drawled in her dichotomist of a voice. Hermione bit down her shivers and desires to flinch with a magnanimously large amount of difficulty, "you are so fearless. Gryffindor is finally able to say his piece in regards to fine tuning you, love."

"Just as Slytherin can say he's made yet another follower?" Hermione asked snidely. Fleur smirked at her and nodded.

"Perhaps. But I only have _you_ to thank. Vertigo, vertigo, vertigo…"

"You can't give me a guilt trip, if that's what you're trying to do," Hermione said with an unusual amount of conviction. Fleur's feathers lifted dangerously for a moment before she sighed, releasing the tension about her.

"Of course not," said Fleur curtly, even making an attempt to give Hermione a winning smile as she did. Hermione merely continued to scowl, clearly unmoved. Fleur frowned maliciously. "You know very well that I care about you. And I know you care for me. So why don't we use that." Fleur extended her hand, revealing the skin of her palm and curling her last two talons upward while she looked at Hermione expectantly. "Take my hand and let me keep my promises. I will do anything for you, Hermione. Name it and it will be done."

"I'm not the only one who cares about you," Hermione said standoffishly. Fleur flinched and retracted her hand. "And I love _Fleur,_ not _you._ Fleur would never go to such lengths, even if it is for me. She _does_ have a sense of justice. And so do I. I refuse to listen to _you,_ Voldemort. Fleur has a family and friends, and I'm _not_ going to stand here and let you use me, confuse me into possibly taking that away from her. You've done quite enough of that and I _won't_ stand for it!"

"What…?"

"You heard me!"

_As they walked hand in hand through the crowded Platform, through the bit of steam and in between the path that people were slowly parting for them, Fleur held back a wince from the lingering vestiges of her head pains. She barely noticed Hermione had let go of her hand, smiling while she turned to embrace Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and even the twins goodbye. Fleur barely felt her body float along momentarily, the absence of Hermione's warmth entwined with her freezing hand soon making her come to a stop. The voices of everyone around her, of goodbyes, of love, of luck, of life – they slowly faded into nothing along with the steaming of the Hogwarts Express on her right._

_Her flat feet felt as if they were suddenly frozen upon the cold ground. A bile of guilt and shame built within, spattering her system while she tried to ignore the recollections of her sins but still failing so horribly. A hiss-like bout of laughter settled in her mind, giggling and cackling and guffawing in such a surreptitious way that she scowled deeply at the emptying path before her. It was as if she'd stopped, and was panting slightly now, because of something that had materialised some yards in front of her while she could only hear the ominous sounds of her increasingly shallow breaths. A body. The body of a man. Certainly not her Father, and this man was certainly much more pale. And bald. And…infuriating. But still so…familiar. The red she saw seemed to be familiar, anyway—_

_If Fleur thought she was breathing fast before, it was nothing compared to how she was breathing now; two pairs of arms had spun her around to crush her with a hug. The near onslaught was maddening, as was the rest of the sounds on the Platform that finally seeped back into her mind. Fleur took a deep breath when Fred and George finally pulled away and beamed at her, Mr. Weasley soon stepping forward to hug her briefly and wish her well before his wife came to do the same. Fleur barely heard a reminder for her to keep her promise while they pulled away. Bill thankfully wasn't there and Charlie had returned to Romania the evening before._

_Even though the snake-like laughter continued to echo slightly in her head, Fleur tried to take in the sight of the Weasleys for a bit longer. She was torn in between hurrying off so as to not appear nostalgic, but another part of her wanted them to see her gratitude. Though she was distracted by her inner troubles at the moment, she tried to ignore them while she stood and regarded them all even after the others had boarded, assuming Fleur was right behind them. Fleur felt the need to say something…anything._

_"I.. Well… Thank you. All of you."_

_"Even us?" Fred grinned._

_"Yes, even you," Fleur chuckled, ignoring the searing pain in her head from having done so._

_"I must say I'm simply quite honoured," said Mr. Weasley, "it really has been a pleasure meeting you, Fleur. Do take good care of Hermione."_

_"I already had her promise she would, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said warmly._

_"She did," Fleur said curtly, "I assure you I will."_

_"Good," said George, "or we may just have'ta come and take care of you if you don't!"_

_"Right he is," Fred nodded, "Hermione's our little angry angel, she is."_

_"Angry angel…?"_

_"Well yeah!" George said. "See, she was always gettin' peeved at us 'n our rule breakin'. I hear she's loosened up_ quite _a_ bit _,_ _though."_

_"That she has," said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows as he did. Fleur gave them a winning smile and rolled her eyes._

_"I'm sure I know what you mean. But anyway, I have to head off."_

_"You'll come visit us over summer, won't you?" Mr. Weasley asked expectantly._

_"Hermione's comin'!" said Fred. "So of course Fleur is too!"_

_"He's right," Fleur nodded. "I'll see you then."_

_"Cheers!" said the twins while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed and waved goodbye. Fleur swallowed a foreign knot in her throat while she nodded, still smiling while she returned the gesture before turning to leave. She also had to blink a few more times than normal while she boarded the train, fighting a powerful urge to turn back and look at them one last time._

"You've taken over Fleur's body but you can't control _me,"_ Hermione said vehemently, not at all caring that Fleur's feathers were lifting once more. The sight merely made her grip her wand even tighter, if possible. "And if you _really_ will do as I say, then listen to me and _leave_ Fleur alone! You've done nothing but victimise her _all her life!_ She doesn't deserve this!"

"You cannot _kill_ me, foolish girl," scoffed Fleur, though Hermione noticed the fear settling in the amethysts before her. Fleur stood her ground even with Hermione advancing towards her in profile, pointing her wand with enough poise to rival that of any one of her own stances. "It is futile to even think about defeating me! If you even dare attempt to kill me, Fleur may go with me—"

"She _may,_ Voldemort," Hermione said assertively. Fleur began to back away once Hermione was within a yard of her, looking down fearfully at the vine wood before her. "I'm _more_ than willing to try and find out myself, despite the risk."

Fleur said nothing. Hermione stopped to watch the darkening vessels that were just under Fleur's sculpted brows, memorising the way the glow about herself slowly deteriorated into dark shadows under the fine contours of her regal face. Fleur soon began to tremble with rage, finally flapping her wing powerfully in such a way that she was propelled backward and into the air, a good distance away from the rage and fire that was Hermione. Before Fleur could even raise her wand, Hermione brandished her own in her direction and shot an illegal amount of fire that only continued to build in vigour the closer it became to her. Fleur let out a loud groan and cut the flames down before they could reach her, sending them curling about right back in Hermione's direction.

Hermione shot her wand directly at the tip of the curling flames and whipped it about with her arm so that the entity formed into a whirl of flames, something that she'd grown quite apt with over the passing months. The concentrated scowl never left her while she continued to channel the flames closer to Fleur, pushing back against the barriers Fleur had placed in front of herself and was doing a rather excellent job at holding. Hermione smirked inwardly once Fleur did what she'd been expecting, and hoping for – shoot a large jet of diamond dust right at her flames.

The hellfire continued stronger than ever, not at all fazed even by Fleur's increasing sheet of sparkling dust she was placing in front of herself. The diamonds coagulated closest to her, and the rest continued to melt with the more power Hermione put behind the raging flame that was burning powerfully for Fleur, without fear, and with every single lesson she'd learnt from Fleur. The flames and dust were slowly turning to water, and Hermione cut her focus in half; one half on her flame and the other on controlling the water that was forming. Fleur was being pushed back higher and higher into the air still from the forces, both of their hair was flying behind them dangerously, and both were mirroring the scowls on their faces, even with the impossibly large and bright orange and sapphire pyrotechnics between them.

Steadily the flames did melt all of Fleur's diamonds, and Hermione didn't hesitate to whip the entire body of water into her control while Fleur immediately shot a sizable beam of ice at the entire ocean between them. Hermione directed the water down, creating a tsunami to go right underneath Fleur and disturb her from her flight while she took steps forward with extreme difficulty. Soon Fleur was engulfed in the raging water, and Hermione wasted no time in lassoing the Leviathan back in her direction while she watched Fleur writhe inside of her creation.

But just as she tried to lessen the pressure and to have Fleur fall right at her feet, the water began to glow violet, and the figure right in the centre was stilled, flying with an erect body and crossing her arms right in front of her neck. Soon the entire tsunami began firing off rays of amethyst, steadily brightening into an almost ultraviolet whirlpool just as Hermione finally lost all control over the water. She lowered her wand and tried voraciously to catch her breath while she watched a dark silhouette right in the centre. Her heart was beating madly but she knew she needed to anticipate, and not simply react to Fleur's next move.

Just as the mauve began to erupt enough to send manufactured earthquakes at Hermione's feet, she quickly conjured her Patronus. The silver otter hopped about the air just in front of Hermione, shielding her from the explosion that was Fleur's rage coloured purple and the wave of Fleur's ultraviolet frustrated cries. The rest of what was the whirlpool had congealed and exploded into shards of amethyst ice, causing every bit of the endless fields of grass above their heads and on the walls to shatter, for the large drop down picture of the late Minister of Magic to be ripped to shreds, for the barriers over the fireplaces to blow apart, and for Hermione's otter to dematerialise just when its task had been completed and the loudness that was Fleur's visceral counterattack to subside.

But Hermione noticed something of great interest while Fleur slowly began to hover back down like a piece of parchment swaying in the wind, almost.

Fleur lowered her weakened body down into the fountain, and Hermione ignored her screaming lungs while she ran over to meet her. The statues were completely destroyed, and Hermione jumped over the remains, landing loudly in the water just as Fleur floated to the surface. Hermione finally felt her face having contorted into an expression of dire concern and hope while she swore to herself that her nerves were perfectly natural. Said nerves multiplied tenfold the second she held Fleur's limp body in her arms and felt to her knees in the shallow pool of water. Hermione was breathing at an alarming rate while she kept one arm around Fleur's body and wing, and her other hand tangled in Fleur's sheet of hair. She lifted one leg to place her foot at the bottom of the pool and to rest Fleur's head on her thigh while Fleur looked up at her sternly, but still so weakly. She wasn't even breathing.

 

* * *

"Hermione…" Fleur's voice was weak, but it was entirely her own; even her eyes had reverted to their blue colour. Hermione felt a knot in her throat while she smiled and nodded, feeling completely relieved. "Don't look at me…"

"You're safe now," Hermione said gently while she brushed aside a fair bit of hair from Fleur's eyes, ignoring the large crowd that was watching them from a safe distance.

"No…"

"No…?"

"Put me.. away…"

"Away where…?"

"They'll know…"

Hermione could only gape as she watched Fleur cough, almost hacking dangerously while her body shuddered and wracked with spasms. She could almost feel the spasms herself of the horrible realisation that her world was once again collapsing in on itself – she hadn't meant that she was perfectly fine with taking such a risk and possibly killing Fleur in the process of ridding Voldemort. She knew what Fleur meant by _putting her away,_ but Hermione knew more than anything that she couldn't bear that alternative. It was either or at this point, but she couldn't make up her mind; she couldn't even make out what it was that she was feeling.

But she knew for certain that she felt Fleur's gentle hand on her face. The talons were still there, traversing through dark tresses, allowing Fleur to settle her weak palm on the back of Hermione's trembling head. Hermione couldn't ignore her crying insides that were failing her body, reducing her to a shuddering mess that was threatening to spill with tears and deviant cries. Nor could she ignore the way Fleur was still somehow giving her a charming smile while lowering her head to meet hers, slowly but surely bringing their lips together while Fleur's second hand rubbed Hermione's back in an almost consoling way while they kissed.

_Holding her gaze was addicting; she felt a lusty haze darken her eyes and relax her eyelids while she continued to stare. Everything but Hermione had gone out of focus, and the wonderful pleasures from being with her at a distance made her want to fall to the ground and pine and moan herself to submission…_

_And as soon as her Patronus floated from her wand, everyone and everything stopped. Fleur could barely put the silvery animal in her line of sight before her eyes flew closed. Time ceased to make sense of anything anymore, and everything happened at once.. absolutely everything…_

_Her Patronus had changed. It was no longer a sphinx. Fleur had changed; emotionally, mentally – Hermione had helped her undergo a large emotional upheaval to bend and smooth over a new shape to her very being._

_She was no longer standing – it felt as if her body was on a high and yet she was still slowly falling, wrapping her arms about something immediately not to break the fall but to make it fall with her. Despite the crescendos and falling, she felt as if she were atop boundless clouds. And yet it was almost like losing complete control and letting herself freefall, but with someone else for a change._

_It was blissful and explosive at the same time, still, even now that she was flat on the ground with a pair of arms around her neck and something else with her, inside of her… Something else that she'd only been able to gaze at for so long…and it felt so many magnitudes more than just relieving that she'd received first and wasn't the one giving._

_Fleur's Patronus had changed to an otter… and what was better was that Hermione did take heed of her advice; she acted impulsively; spontaneously like the combustions and explosions going off inside of her, sending a passionate steam swirling within that settled into a near dangerous drive for her… It was like that night all over again when she'd become so humbly consumed with her own sexual drive, except this time she had every right to believe that it wasn't one-sided anymore.._

_Hermione was the one that choked back a sob while she bolted towards Fleur, uttering such an adorable cry of joy at the same time that it melted Fleur's insides into a saccharine waterfall that crashed down within, cutting off any and all control over herself, easily making her moan._

_Hermione_ _had charged at her and sealed their lips together from the sheer flattery and utter joy that she'd made such an impact on her, sending them both falling to the ground while their otters hopped about their tangled bodies. Hermione was kissing her… Hermione.. **kissing** her… Collective stares from everyone only further tangled more and more layers over the two, shielding them from the cold and any and all impossibilities in the world when it came to anything._

_The lips upon hers and the fingers tangled in her hair thawed her from her frozen shock. Fleur was almost too dumbfounded that Hermione had finally stepped past the threshold of their simply being best friends and acted on her wants and took a chance. Fingertips, nails, hands and arms brought Hermione as close to her as possible while she finally registered just how supple and wanton Hermione's lips were, full in their own ways and somehow whispering imaginary pleas and gratitude through the heart-shaped lips that she'd finally seized. Fleur only had to inch her head up and ease her lips further into Hermione's; both of them were severely depraved from the other and far beyond overwhelmed and shocked and still somehow so sweetly satisfied.._

_Exploration took place, their lips searching and familiarising with uncharted territory that was finally their own. It was intense, smouldering, fiery – just like Fleur always believed Hermione's eyes to be. Their heads moved this way and that, faces still plastered on the others', barely getting any breaths in between trying so hard to make the most of their moment after far too long a time of restraint._

_An arpeggio it was, between them – fast with their lips one way, slowly moving back to revisit and then soaring right back up the scale of how soft and right it felt for their lips to be one. Everything else was forgotten while they let low, throaty moans and sighs escape them on occasion, barely leaving room to let them catch their breaths that they damned for needing as much as they needed this moment and each other. So many wonderful memories of their time together sewed right together with this moment, creating a completely different image of a timid Hermione to one that was no longer afraid of anything._

_Wind chill was blocked off from the warmth ensuing between them, bequeathing them with an ever-growing feel for the other no matter how surreal it felt to be so close and creating such tender chafing betwixt them. An epiphany.. a finally moment – and it was all theirs for the taking, neither wanting to let go and both so, so, so insanely desperate in their passions, pleading with the other to never ever stop._

Hermione's body betrayed her yet again while she shut her eyes and reciprocated, feeling white hot trails cut down her eyes and face, seemingly burning away the more defined sculpts about Fleur's face. The tears nearly drowned Fleur's morphing face, sending off steam that was the warmth in their mouths and the burning shame that had melded inside of Fleur. Tears continued downward, burning off feathers, retracting claws, causing a lone wing to retreat painfully back inside Fleur's back from whence it came, but still not having the power to make Fleur cry, no matter how much she wanted to.

She could only listen as Hermione continued to sob in between kisses, lay there as Hermione held her tighter than she'd ever held her before, and whisper her endless apologies in between tasting salt, pouring passion into her kisses, and mixing up every last bit of her energy into a playful lick of Hermione's supple, swollen lip before her consciousness began to fade out. Fleur did hear pained cries, calling out to her, begging her to stay, but it was impossible.

Even if she did love Hermione so, which she did whisper to her, the shame was too much. The knowledge that she'd lost to Voldemort crippled her in every way possible. Despite Hermione standing by her, and even still loving her once she'd transformed, it was all too much to handle. She didn't want to handle it. Hermione was too good for her…something she would _still_ never, ever be able to grasp and understand. The irony was dripping from every ounce of the situation and Fleur was not strong enough to want to deal with it, or to even consider such a thing.

Not even Hermione could save her from this, to simply nurse her back to health right after. Every bit of her dying psyche was screaming this to her, and she simply let herself fall into a deep coma to make them all shut up despite how much she wanted to keep smiling at Hermione. The better part of her mind was telling her that it was Hermione screaming, but she couldn't bear it. Hermione was strong; she could wait for her to get herself situated. Until then, she needed silence. Time to think. Time to repent.

Just wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Patience and understanding, and remember to smile…

* * *

Hermione could not fathom how she was able enough to sit in the Great Hall, at the Gryffindor table, in the mostly refurbished Hogwarts late that afternoon. She couldn't eat. The rest of the students around her, most especially those allowed to return, were barely any better off than she was. Ron was next to her, Harry and Ginny across from her, and she was sorely missing another love that should have been right next to her. No one was talking very much; not even the excitement that term had finally ended, despite the severe week-long gap that had occurred earlier that month. Hermione also could not seem to be able to understand how it was that she and the rest of the Seventh and Fifth years had gotten through their examinations. The rest of the school had a break from end of year exams, but Dumbledore made a wise decision to continue with O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams; Hermione didn't want any reason to return to Hogwarts and possibly repeat classes. It was June fourth when Hermione last saw Fleur before she was taken to St. Mungo's. But only temporarily.

No one knew what to say to Hermione. She could only be extremely grateful that no one blamed either her or Fleur for what had transpired. Not even Draco had anything to say, save for a sincere apology while he returned Noel to her, unscathed and cared for, as they were leaving St. Mungo's that night. Bellatrix's whereabouts were unknown, but Lucius was finally convicted of his crimes and locked away in Azkaban along with Narcissa for supposedly aiding and encouraging Lucius's use of the Imperius Curse against Fleur when she was but a girl. Draco seemed rather torn while he, Pansy, Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle sat in their usual area of the Slytherin table. Not even Ron had anything to say about the blond, nor did anyone else in the school; they knew how close he and Fleur were. But Hermione was unsure as to how Fleur would react if she knew that the entire Wizarding World finally knew of her past, her age, and yet still revered her beyond belief despite what she'd done.

Everyone knew of the consequences of possession, as the Wizarding World had seen many a Sorceress and Sorcerer before Fleur's time. It wasn't until recently that they'd begun work on a mechanism to combat the source of what made a Sorceress – the very wretched soul of the one doing the possessing, while still keeping the victim's body in-tact. Fleur's 'ceremony' was to be held the following day. It felt awkward to call it a ceremony, but it was not exactly a burial, either. It was all only temporary, but Hermione didn't know how long it was meant to go on for.

She didn't seem to know anything anymore… There were too many strings tugging down, making her want to cry, but those same strings seemed to have been pulling her up, lifting her high in the Enchanted sky and reminding her that she still had her memories. She followed her heart and did what was right, but because of lingering struggles for power that had begun years ago, she was still sitting so hollowly within herself while she could only think, reminisce, and recollect nostalgically on the days that she never would have foreseen as having to be put on indefinite hold…

_On one May evening, Fleur took Hermione along with her, sneaking her off of the Hogwarts grounds and Apparating with her to the Leaky Cauldron to of course take her to Paris. The two were sitting right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, mainly for Fleur to have a grand opportunity to continue combating her diminishing acrophobia, and to sit and have a talk with Hermione while they observed the city. They were holding each other, Fleur pointing out to the expansive magical city of lights, explaining what this and that was, and how old she was when she'd first gone to such and such place._

_Hermione was smiling so much, almost too much, while she leaned on Fleur and kept her head on her shoulder. Fleur's warm cloak was enveloping them both, shielding them from the wind and covering Hermione's face so that only her eyes could peek out to what Fleur would gesture to every now and then. It was especially relieving that even though they were outside, Fleur was completely normal and not behaving strangely at all. But a strange pang continued to hit her, and it only resurfaced more and more the harder she tried to pin it down. There was simply something about sitting there with Fleur that night while she saw just how 'miniature' of a model the city was. This certain something made her not want to leave the warmth of Fleur's cloak and arm wrapped about her form, nor did she even want to move from that spot._

_She peered up curiously after noticing she'd spaced out momentarily and watched as Fleur let out a charming laugh as she stared up at the stars. Hermione pressed her body against Fleur's side in a questioning gesture and Fleur stopped laughing to smile warmly at her, though her lips were quivering. Hermione continued to gaze up at her in curiosity and Fleur sighed delightedly._

_"You look…adorable like this, you know. With my cloak over your face and everything. More so than usual." Fleur smiled even more when Hermione creased her brows and rolled her eyes, clearly not having wanted this reply. "I asked you a question just now and I'm assuming that you spaced out on me." Hermione gave Fleur an apologetic look and could only nod, and Fleur shook her head, still smiling. "It's fine, Hermione. It's perfectly fine."_

_Hermione inched her body into Fleur's side again in a prodding gesture and Fleur sighed once again. "All right, all right," Fleur said before moving her lips down to kiss Hermione's forehead and staying there. "We should move here whenever we decide to get out on our own. Everyone here probably already knows you by now, and I know you know French. You'd fit in just fine." Hermione nodded and kissed Fleur's shoulder. "Good. But I'm sure your parents—" Hermione again pressed her body against Fleur's side._

_"My parents…?" A nod and another kiss on the shoulder. "That's very sweet of you.. It's been a while since I've had a family… The Weasleys are wonderful as well. I'm looking forward to seeing them again. And…thank you. I wonder where I'd be right now if not for you. Probably stuck in my room pretending to not care about being unhappy.. But even though I've never had anyone such as you, and even though you make me happy…it hurts, sometimes.. Maybe it hurts because of how good it feels…_

_"Or.. maybe it's just growing pains. I've changed a lot. For you, for myself, for…our family. Family.. something that I will never, ever take for granted ever again. Or you. Or my life. You really are wonderful beyond words, actions, gestures… It feels nice to sit here with you and get away from it all. But I feel silly right now… Silly because I don't really.. know what else to say… Maybe I don't want to say anything at all. Maybe I just want to sit here and smile or laugh or just…cry._

_"I think I do want to cry, Hermione.. and I don't know why. You do that to me… You say it's okay to cry.. you say it's okay to feel overwhelmed at times… You say it's okay to feel angry at Draco, at everyone else for seemingly no reason, at the world…just because I'm still a bit of an angry person… You're so accepting of me and so generous and so kind.. if I ever claim to want you any other way then I'm not myself. And yet you'd still love me anyway.. You would… You would.."_

_Hermione automatically held Fleur more tightly than before once she felt a single droplet upon her forehead. She didn't want to or even think to question why Fleur was crying, and could only smile while she swallowed the knots in her throat and tried to ignore the familiar twinges prodding at her insides. Fleur really was just a big softie underneath it all, and Hermione was ever so thankful that the woman that was so intimidating towards everyone else could cry silently in her arms…_

"There is no one to blame for this," Dumbledore began evenly, signalling the start of the end of term speech. What little chatter there was in the Hall died quickly while everyone gave him their attention, though Hermione was struggling to even turn in her seat to look at him properly, "except for Lord Voldemort. Yes, we were fools to think that he'd been vanquished so easily many nights past. Because while his body is useless, he quickly found another, turning the one you all look up to into a victim of her own heritage.

"Lord Voldemort is taking advantage of Fleur through living among the source of her thrall – her emotions. But we know that we can rid Fleur of her daemons and extract the wretched soul of a wretched man from her body. All she needs is time once the extraction begins. Give her that much; do not give her your hate, your blaming, or your negative energy.

"Simply be grateful that Fleur had the amount of control over herself that she did – the raids that went on did not result in a single death of our loved ones, or anyone else, for that matter. Yes, Fleur _did_ kill…but she killed Voldemort's followers, all except for Bellatrix Lestrange whose whereabouts we are unsure of, and Lucius Malfoy who is now in Azkaban Prison. Lucius has committed many heinous crimes and will suffer the consequences along with his wife. His son, our own Mr. Draco Malfoy, had no part in any one of these crimes. I ask of you to not direct your hatred towards Draco at all, for he knew Fleur better than almost everyone…"

Hermione honestly felt everyone's eyes turn to glance at her momentarily before looking back to Dumbledore, and her face burned horribly for the short time. Ron put an arm around her and she continued to stare at her now empty plate, seemingly feeling the rivulets that had fallen from Fleur's eyes fall from her own as she continued to sit. She appreciated Ron's friendly squeeze and Harry and Ginny's sympathetic looks, but she was unsure if she could sit through the rest of Dumbledore's needed speech. Hermione knew that she was the next topic that needed addressing. And though she felt honoured to have such a place in Fleur's life, there still remained the truth that she was sitting in the Great Hall, without Fleur, crying.

And even though she wasn't the only one crying, she felt singled out by the action alone. She felt beads of sweat on her nose and the strain on her lungs to keep her sobs to a minimum volume, though Dumbledore was speaking loudly enough as to rise his needed words above the collective sobs in the Great Hall. Even Snape and McGonagall seemed to be sitting beside themselves, Hagrid was weeping openly, and Dumbledore looked rather pained, but Hermione could only avert her eyes to stare at her ring now while she let everything out, again; crying was not anything foreign to her that month ever since that final night she'd been allowed to see Fleur.

"Hermione…is also not one to blame for this. Love is a wonderful thing, and no one knew any of the repercussions that Fleur, or any of us, would have had to experience from their increasing bond. Fleur is an extremely gifted individual, but she held onto her beliefs and emotions so tightly; it seemed that none of us could ever bring down her barriers. However, Hermione did… We ought to be thankful that Fleur will be able to live her own life, to have a family, to have Hermione, to be free of pain and the constant need to guard her emotions in due time. Their love is not any less powerful, despite what has happened, or even because of the truth that they are both women. Homosexual love is no different than heterosexual love… _This…_ is a powerful testament to that.

"Two powerful minds were brought together this year; one from the House of Godric Gryffindor, the other from the House of Salazar Slytherin, and both Houses have been notorious in the realm of House rivalry. To remedy this, let it be known that, for both Fleur and Hermione's efforts, both Slytherin and Gryffindor shall receive five hundred plus any more points either House needs to let them be tied for the House Cup this year. Hermione and Fleur both challenged each other immensely this year…in every way imaginable. It can never suffice to say that they merely learned from each other and improved beyond credible limitations. But hear this.

"I ask you all to put aside House hatred from now on, even those of you that are humbly graduating this day. While the Slytherin House has its stigmas, I urge you to not discriminate upon any of its members. It is true that every single Death Eater that Fleur has slain belonged to Slytherin, they acted on their own accord when they decided to join Lord Voldemort's ranks. They do not represent the Slytherin House as a whole. Fleur believed in abolishing House rivalry, and I am here before you today to enforce her words. You are free to ignore me if you wish, but Fleur is a noble woman that deserves to be heard and listened to.

"As you now know, she is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, as is Hermione. I award Fleur an honorary graduation for her already withstanding superb intellect, as well as the strength of character and respect among you all that earned her the title of Head Girl. I also award Fleur and Hermione both, as temporary Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin, First Class for their efforts. Special Services to the School as well as Outstanding Efforts and Minds for the two is in order, along with the aforementioned House points. As per request of Mr. Malfoy, I also award Fleur an honorary reward for her efforts as Reserve Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team in her Third Year.

"But let me make it clear that these awards I have bestowed upon the two can in no way compensate for the sacrifices that need to be made soon. Tomorrow, in fact… I implore you all, if you ever feel the need to hate again, to seek reason. While it will be nice to visit the Trophy Room and observe their awards, I urge you to remember the lessons you've learnt this month, most especially today. Adults, or those simply expected to keep order, are not always the ones with the solutions. You, as individuals, have astounding potential. Collectively, it can grow into something far more powerful. This something, perhaps, can compare to the bond that two people can share such as Fleur and Hermione. But the answer to that question, as always, remains but a mystery, waiting to be solved…"

* * *

Walking up the ivory steps leading to the entrance of the Sorceress' Memorial was nothing short of difficult, but _difficult_ didn't seem to do the struggling justice. Hermione wanted to hate that the sun was shining that day as she walked up the steps at the fore of the limited group allowed inside, but she hadn't the energy for hate. She wondered if she ever would. Have energy, that was. Just energy. Energy to consciously continue to walk up a wide staircase, energy to blush at the knowledge that every eye of the Wizarding Community of Great Britain and France was on her as they watched from a distance, crowding the surrounding expanse of cement. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd just fainted now and gotten it over with…but then she would miss out on getting to see Fleur one last time until… Until a time that she would soon find out…

The Sorceress' Memorial was a long, white building in the shape of an oval, with smooth edges and expansive windows on the ceiling to allow for natural light to light the building during the day. At night or sunless days, the building ran on excess collected solar energy to keep its Chambers running smoothly. And though Hermione knew she was nearing the double doors, she wasn't sure if she could handle finally letting Fleur go. Sure, it was only temporary…but how long was temporary? It could have been that the true meaning of temporary had been distorted, just as Fleur's psyche was. Just as Hermione's insides were while she tried her hardest to at least _not_ cry… Not yet.

As she walked into the cool building, her skin seemed to have frozen on contact with the shade while a man in a white lab coat led her and her group just down the bright hall into a rather large, empty room. Just in front of them was a transparent wall and an open door on the very same wall leading to a human-sized Repository Chamber on the wall just beyond that of the transparent one. Hermione tried to give the man her attention while her parents, the Weasleys, Harry, and Draco surrounded her. She looked up at him sombrely, and he tried to smile encouragingly but the attempt was lost upon Hermione once she'd heard the answer to her nagging, nagging question.

"Four years," the man said evenly. Hermione felt her knees give way and Ron just barely caught her, easing her to the floor and sitting there with her, ignoring the choked sobs from everyone else. "Twice the amount of time You-Know-Who has been inside of her… The extraction process is sure to work. You-Know-Who will be frozen inside of every inch of her body. That is what takes the longest, as it requires the most precision… Once that is done, the Chamber will automatically begin the removal of the 'ice' of the soul."

"And what about Fleur…?" Mrs. Granger asked carefully. "She'll be okay, won't she?"

"Of course. I can assure you she will be, but she also needs to stay conscious the entire time…"

"The… _entire time?"_ Draco echoed hollowly.

"If she loses consciousness it is possible that we'll lose _her._ So…yes.. She will be nourished and will be able to think, but we will be lessening her burdens as much as possible. Please understand…" The man surveyed everyone and gave another assistant the okay to bring Fleur in. "She is on her way from the other room now. I need you all to refrain from making contact with her…we don't want to risk anything. I apologise, Miss Granger—"

"Delacour," Hermione said calmly while she let Ron help her up.

"Oh. Hermione Delacour.. I see. Are you two married…?"

Hermione merely showed him her ring and shook her head, and he nodded in understanding just as more assistants in white lab coats walked through the transparent doorway to ready the Chamber, and behind them strode Fleur, slowly.

Every eye of the group turned to look at her, but she did not, could not, would not look at any of them. Hermione felt quite akin to a phantom, bogged down only by her burning nerves and apathy inside of her while she walked over to where Fleur was standing in her predictable clothing. Hermione was wearing the same, though Fleur's attire was still ripped, somewhat. It was at least comforting to see that she was all right, for the time being, even if she was glaring at the transparent wall before her and still standing so strong.

Fleur still had her dignity and pride, even if she was going through a nightmare. Hermione could only admire her even more while she stood but a few inches away from her, aware that she could not touch no matter how badly she wanted to. She wanted to tangle Fleur's silk in her hands, tangle her lips and tongue with her own, or even just…hold her. But all she could do was stare… Stare, stare, stare, pine, moan inwardly; cry silently while Fleur continued to ignore her.. Fleur still had her poise, her health, her commandeering respect even though the soul of a horrific man lived on inside of her.

And Hermione still loved her, despite everything and anything that did or _could have_ happened. The way her heart still beat such saccharine sweets for Fleur and yet continued to rip her own dignity and emotions down to hell told her that much.

"Hi Fleur," Hermione breathed. Fleur showed no sign of acknowledgment; her silence burned and stung horribly like the tears cutting down Hermione's face. Hermione bit her salty lips while she began to ball the end of her shirt in her hands out of helplessness, out of desperation… "You're…you're.. you're still looking well.. Even though, you know… You're still so amazing...

"Four…y-years…is a long time. But I promise you now that I won't leave you.. I'll wait, Fleur… I'll _w-wait…_ Do you see this ring…? I accept it.. You're so sweet, so…romantic, so many other things that I can't…seem to be able to voice right now.. Words seem so useless now… but I want you to know that no one blames you, or us, for any of this… please don't be…angry… I d-don't want to lose you. But above all, I'm _sorry…_ I am _so sorry.._ For everything _…_ Just.. _everything_ …"

Fleur still said nothing and refused to even look at her. Hermione had a profound ache to at least see both of Fleur's azures one last time, and she had an even stronger ache to launch herself on her _husband_ and hold her. Hermione wanted to have the power to purge Fleur of her daemons, to keep Fleur safe, and protect her as Fleur had done so wonderfully for her. But Fleur was so angry to the point of not even wanting to defile her eyes by looking at her. Hermione felt a tug in Fleur's direction and automatically moved with it, but something more than her heightening tears were weighing her down.

Ron again had to latch on to Hermione to keep her from touching Fleur. Right when Hermione once again fell to her knees with Ron supporting her and keeping her grounded, Fleur ran a hand through her sheet of hair and ruffled it up, letting the shimmer beam on Hermione's form and light her eyes up momentarily before strutting off. Whatever Hermione was shouting while Ron struggled to hold her back was ridden with insurmountable guilt and despair that would only continue to fester inside of her for a long time to come. Hermione could barely watch through tearstained eyes while Fleur stepped into the Chamber, and she was soon being supported in a way strikingly similar to a crucifixion just on the wall; not long after she closed her eyes that did not look at anyone did a glass wall be placed over her. Soon the transparent door had closed, and the transparency of the entire wall had closed with it while the entire wall reverted to solid white.

But in the transition, the ever so _slow,_ and _painful_ transition from ice to snow, Hermione felt the shift from solid feelings to those that may never have existed before or simply didn't have a name…a body of letters and syllables to call home. It was something far more epic than hopelessness and more derailing than powerlessness. It was more striking than being stripped of ones beliefs and very being. All Hermione could do was watch as Fleur's figure slowly began to fade out, giving way to the blizzard that enshrouded her, and Hermione could still only _watch._ A part of her reacted with reaching out pitifully to Fleur, trying to breach the distance between them, finding a way drowned deep in her tears and the sweat on her face to make things right.

Her hearing and eyesight seemed to have been failing her; the tears were blinding and stung as much as the white expanse before her did to every other inch of her. Her face was still contorted in anguish, in fury with her inability to do anything but cry, and her arms began to push back against Ron while her hands tried to claw at his paws holding her back from the only one she ever loved. Empowered shivers stroked her crying pores while she continued to kneel with Ron upon the floor; her eyes were wide shut and her mouth was opened wide, wide as could be, and she rose her head to the heavens while she cried out for Fleur, but no one, not even Hermione herself, could hear her. The cries and shouts ripped from her throat and shook the very heavens themselves just before she cringed and cast her body in hell's direction and she could still only cry. All was still silent, even as Hermione wailed, loud enough for thousands upon thousands, even millions, outside to hear her.

All of this – this upheaval, this torment, this flip-flop of realities – all because of a lone flower with the power to poison, to cripple, to disease. Delicacies of outward appearances, small relative sizes bringing doubts of true fragrance and impact, and _assumptions_ based on transience – these were all contradictions that were all still so true. Like the dichotomy of Fleur's behaviour, her barriers, but her possible want to have at least looked at Hermione once more. Like the truth behind Fleur's true nature that Hermione discovered under nearly twelve-year-old barriers.

Or like the outrageous lingering smell of chocolate on her hands, Hermione herself became a contradiction, more and more, every night over the passing years. She really wondered whether Fleur feared her more than she loved her, most especially if she still would once she was free. Though the question that would haunt her most of all was the exactness of the blue in Fleur's eyes, the shape it was, the true feelings behind them.

And if there were feelings, Hermione would wonder incessantly, endlessly; never-ending her thirst of one last bit of solid truth as to whether the feelings were for her.

* * *

_Four years later_

_Glacial eyes began to stir, easing her from her dreamless sleep. Sleep, think, repent, reflect – these things she had done for near endless strings of months and weeks and days and hours and minutes and seconds. Time had throbbed painfully on her mind, aging her being beyond her now twenty-four years, and yet preserving her youth just as simply as the freezing effect of her everlasting thrall. The thrall that made everything possible, that made everything impossible if she desired, and that which she could not simply remove and be done with._

_Her sister passed through her thoughts on various occasions. Her heart would always automatically bow down to her sin and freeze her in the moment, adding to the build-up of what appeared to be snow and ice on the glass before her. Her family, all three of them, was another frequent topic of thought, of reflection, of pondering. But nothing more so than that of one Hermione Delacour._

_The mere reminder of the woman finally made Fleur's eyelids snap open; the recollection jerked her head up along with the realisation that the sounds of air pressure outside was prompting her release. It was time to continue where she'd left off years ago. Ambition, desire, want, chauvinism and a certain knack for teasing that she'd harboured for years finally began to open a new unexplored, uncharted vessel within, making her veins warm themselves with criminal amounts of self-satisfaction._

_The memory of her fear did send spasms throughout, but none was more prominent than the near seizure in her eyes that sent a wave to her irises, making them flash amethyst momentarily while she breathed dangerously and sneered victoriously. Soon. Soon…_

_Just wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Patience and understanding, and remember to sneer…_


End file.
